


Goodbye to all That

by die_traumerei



Series: Home is the Soldier [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling, Depression, M/M, PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Recovery, academic!steve, soldier!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:46:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to A Few Lines that May Fall Under Your Eye.  </p><p>Back in Brooklyn, Bucky begins to recover while he and Steve navigate their growing relationship.  Told in a mixture of texts, letters, e-mails and regular ol' prose, the boys must deal with moving forward and making a new life for themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Robert Graves' book, of the same name.
> 
> Well, it's about time I start posting the damn thing :) I don't have the story completely written, but I've got the plot details worked out, so new chapters should go up relatively regularly, 1-2 times a week. I'll update the character and tag lists as needed with each chapter. (And, frankly, probably rewrite the summary so that it is not so unspeakably terrible.)
> 
> Thanks, as always, to the lovely and patient Zisl for her beta-ing.

> “When you stir your rice pudding, Septimus, the spoonful of jam spreads itself round making red trails like the picture of a meteor in my astronomical atlas. But if you stir backwards, the jam will not come together again. Indeed, the pudding does not notice and continues to turn pink just as before. Do you think this is odd?”
> 
> \- Tom Stoppard, _Arcadia_

 

[Steve's texts are in **bold** and Bucky's are in _italics]_

 

_Hey :) How's your day going?_

**Boring. How's yours?**

_Okay. PT this morning and apparently I now have a therapist for three sessions. Yey. Miss you._

**Miss you too, baby, so much. I promise I'll be there this weekend. Please be nice to your therapist, they are overworked and underpaid if Sam is anything to go by.**

_I promise I will not fuck with my therapist. Probably._

**You know, they are there to help, technically.**

_Yeah. I guess? I don't really like talking about my feelings._

**This from a man who poured his heart out to me in ink and paper?**

_Hey, you're different, you're always different. And that was basically all good stuff anyway, it's not the same._

**I know, I shouldn't tease. Just promise me you'll let them take care of you? In all the ways you might possibly need?**

_God, no, make fun of me, I probably need it. And I promise. Can I call you later?_

**Sweetheart, you can call me anytime. But yes, later is good, I'll get home around 6, and then I've got all night free to talk.**

_Good. I think if I can cradle the phone between my head and my shoulder, I can manage phone sex._

**BUCKY NO.**

_BUCKY YES!_

**I am going to teach my afternoon class now and I am turning my phone off.**

_Ha ha you're totally looking forward to phone sex._

 

_* * *_

 

**I cannot believe we had phone sex you don't even have walls what the fuck.**

_I was quiet._

**Bucky, I was there. You were not quiet.**

_Well, if they don't have a gorgeous bit of something on the other end of the line, that's not my fault, is it?_

**Maybe they do and they're just not tacky fucks.**

_1\. Whoever they got isn't as gorgeous as my dollface. 2. I won't argue if they want to have phone sex, so..._

**Oh my God. I'll send them all flowers or something.**

_Think they'd appreciate porn more._

**You think you're making me blush, don't you? That's so cute.**

_Baby, I know I'm making you blush. It's the middle of the day and you're in your office that you share with four other doctorate students. You're totally blushing._

**DSC078398.jpg**

_I knew it!! I can make my boyfriend blush. God, you're gorgeous baby._

**Takes one to know one. Send me a picture of you?**

_Ugh, if you want? I look like death warmed over._

**Like I give a shit.**

_Sorry, Stevie. This is the best I can do._

_DSC038492.jpg_

**Hey, I had ulterior motives in begging for Peggy's old smartphone. You can't do this with your stupid old burner.**

**Well, you look awful, guess this is over.**

**Did you really think I'd ever say that?**

_Well, no. Sorry, ignore me._

**Won't. Got a few more minutes to kill. Baby, you look tired, and those aren't smile-lines around your mouth. But do you have any concept of how grateful I am that you can send me a picture of yourself? Please just understand, you are always gonna be my gorgeous guy, and I was so afraid I'd never get to just ask you for a picture and then get it. For all sorts of reasons.**

**I can't imagine not grinning like a total dweeb every time I get a picture of you.**

**And for fuck's sake, you're pretty hot no matter what. Nothing changing that smile and you know it.**

_Thanks. Thank you._

**It's fucking rough, isn't it? Lucky for you I won't ever get tired of telling you how you utterly fucking rock my world.**

_DSC0389372.mp4_

**Blowing you kisses too, Buck. Call me tonight we can embarrass everyone within twenty yards of you again.**

_I'm not that loud, Jesus!_

**The name's Steve, though I can tell where you get confused. And is that what everyone's told you? Hm.**

_Oh my God. Don't you have a class to teach? You definitely have a class to teach._

**Fine, I'll call you. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO times a million.**

_Back atcha, kid. xo_

 

_* * *_

 

**Hey you :) xoxo**

_Hey you too. Everything good?_

**Yeah, I got soaked on my way home so I'm hiding under a pile of blankets and got bored. You good too?**

_For a value of good, yes. And we're getting rain too, I can hear it :)_

**Aww, we can share a freezing downpour, I feel so romantic.**

_You okay? Dry and warm and everything?_

**Bucky, I am an adult, I can warm myself up. (Please ignore that I am texting you from under my superhero-themed duvet cover.)**

_Oh my God, selfie. Now._

**DSC08989.jpg**

_Thank you for my new phone wallpaper_

**BUCKY! Other people were not supposed to see that!**

_Hey, you give me your neighbor's old Android, I will use and abuse it as I see fit_

**Bite my entire ass**

_Oh you just wish._

**I do, kinda :/ Wish you were here with me**

_Me too, baby. Hey, can I call you? Texting one-handed is kind've a pain right now._

Bucky wondered if Steve had set a world record in how quickly his call came through. He also wondered if he looked as stupid as he felt when he smiled every time Steve's name came up on his phone. “Hey, cutie.”

“Ha ha. Everything okay, Buck?”

“Yeah, of course,” he soothed. “Um. They finally sent me those last two letters you wrote.”

“Really? God, they could've skipped them, the last one is just me whining.” And terrified and so fucking _tender_ , Bucky mentally added.

“It is not. Steve...you know you mean the world to me, right?”

“Yeah, Buck. Feel the same way about you, you know.”

“I know, shut up, this is about you.” Bucky took a deep breath, and fought past the quiet in his throat, the silence he kept wanting to retreat into. This was _important_. “Never, ever, ever think that the best thing about you is anything other than _you_. Captain America is fun, and I want to commission a sketch of him punching out a velociraptor, but he's _just_ fun. Everything special about you is in you, okay?” Ugh, he should have written this down. They were best in writing. He was best, not saying the words.

“Buck...” He could just make out the sound of Steve clearing his throat, and oh _God_ had he said something wrong? “Thank you. Um. I'm sorry I laid that on you. I was scared and sad and I'm not always – always my best self. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Fuck everything, he had to get out of this hospital soon so he could be close to Steve, hold him and kiss him and tell him things _right_. “It's okay to be scared and sad. So they keep telling me.”

Steve laughed, and Bucky let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. “Bullshit. We're men, we don't have _emotions_.”

“Excuse me, I have many emotions,” Bucky retorted. “Horny. Hungry. Hungry's an emotion, right?”

Now Steve was laughing harder. “Um, sure. That's only two, baby. What else?”

“Thirsty? Uh. Shooty. That's an emotion, I promise. Did I say horny?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Fuck.” Bucky grinned to hear how Steve was laughing. “Can't wait to be outta here.”

“Me too. Just another day, and I'll be there to visit. You're doing so good, they gotta let you come home soon.”

Home. Yes. That thing he didn't have. Bucky bit his lip. “Hey, about that.”

“Yeah?”

“Um. So they'll help set me up with housing and stuff, but it usually takes awhile and it's not great and...is there any way I can stay with you until I get things sorted out? I'm fine on the sofa or the floor and I swear it won't be for long it would just be good to have a place I can tell them I can go to and --”

“Bucky! Bucky, calm. Yes. Yes, of course you can stay here, Jesus. I thought you _knew_ that.” Bucky sighed in relief. “Jesus _Christ_ ,” Steve continued, his voice actually cracking. “And over my dead body will you sleep on the sofa. You're getting the bedroom, the sofa in my office folds out and will be fine for me.” He paused, and continued, a little shyly. “I mean. If you don't want to share the bed.”

Bucky smiled so hard it hurt. “Let's see how it goes, yeah? I mean, yes, I want to share. At least sometimes. I'm not always the best person to sleep next to though.”

“Yeah, and my elbows are sharp enough to be classified as weapons. We'll figure out what works for us.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said softly. “Hey. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Buck. Truly.”

They talked until Bucky couldn't hide his yawning anymore, and Steve grumbled at him to get some sleep. Bucky took a picture of himself sticking his tongue out, sent it, and fell asleep easy and good.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos -- you have no idea how encouraging it is.
> 
> Beta as always by Zisl :)

Steve checked the coffee again – he'd set it up as nice as he could. The kettle was hot but not boiling and the grounds were...breathing? Did coffee need to breathe? The barista had walked him through the pour-over method twice, but he didn't remember if she'd said anything about that.

He eyed the kettle suspiciously and checked the time again. Bucky said he'd get there around two.  _ Around _ two, which did not mean fourteen hundred on the dot, which meant what, like fifteen minutes either side that he could arrive? Steve had scrubbed the apartment end to end already that day, made the bed with the really cozy flannel sheets and he had the  _ best _ cookies and he could make good coffee, Nita had assured him that the coffee he'd bought was really good, roasted right there in Brooklyn and –

“Oh my God, I am a loser.” Steve sat down so he'd stop pacing, because even though there was no one in the basement apartment, the _floor_ did not deserve such treatment. “Oh my _God_.”

He breathed deeply, because having an asthma attack over coffee was actually too stupid even for him. (He refused to acknowledge that it was actually over Bucky, who was  _ coming to live with him and--) _

“I am the biggest loser,” Steve announced aloud, and curled up on the kitchen chair, contemplating the fake wood grain of the table and wondering if he should warn Bucky to get away now while he could.

He jumped when the buzzer sounded, but was very, very proud of himself for not yelping. He was also proud of himself for not tripping over his own feet as he ran for the front door, remembering to prop  _ his _ door open because locking them both out by accident would be not a good thing, and he pulled open the big main door, grin already across his face.

“Package for you.” 

“Um, thank you.” Steve accepted the box and the rest of the building's mail, and prayed that the mailman hadn't noticed the stupid grin.

“Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Oh, he was the biggest dweeb, and now he was a dweeb with some more books and a credit card bill. He kept the door open with a chunk of cinderblock, needing the light from outside to figure out whose mail went where. 

He was musing on the fact that the art of sending stuff via the postal service was clearly in no way on its way out, when he completely failed to hear the soft tread up the stairs.

“Steve?”

Steve spun around so fast it was a miracle he didn't sprain anything. “ _ Bucky _ .” The last of the letters was abandoned in a pile – he'd go back and do it later, he swore – in favor of wrapping his arms around the tall man who now filled the doorway.

“Hey.” Bucky's arm came around him, and they just held each other for a moment. Bucky's jacket was rough and smelled new. He was warm, andcould rest his cheek on the top of Steve's head.

“Welcome home, Brooklyn boy.” Steve pulled back a little and grinned, and reached up for a soft kiss. “C'mon in out of the cold.”

“My savior,” Bucky said fervently. He shouldered the duffel – maybe three-quarters full, Steve guessed – and followed him to the rear apartment.

“Hey.” Steve closed the door behind them and grinned up at Bucky. And wondered if he'd ever _stop_ grinning. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” Bucky let the bag slip to the floor and reached out and then they were _kissing_ , they were kissing _in Steve's apartment_ and this was the best thing ever.

“God, you're wonderful,” Steve breathed, and ran a hand along Bucky's face, cradling his cheek. “C'mon, or I won't stop for the next few hours.”

“I'm okay with that.” Bucky grinned, and laid a kiss on the tip of Steve's nose before finally pulling back. “Where should I put my stuff?”

“Your coat's fine on the hook by the door, and just leave your bag here right now. Unless you want the tour, then coffee?”

“Coffee first. Always coffee first.” Bucky dropped his bag and shrugged out of his coat, Steve pointedly _not_ asking if he needed help, because he didn't. And also they had already had that fight, and as much as he liked the make-up cuddling (and it would probably be better not in a hospital bed in front of God and everybody), there wasn't any need  to borrow trouble.

Instead he took Bucky's hand and led him into the little kitchen. Steve went to attend to the coffee, following the written instructions he'd taped to a cupboard door. “How was the drive up, babe?”

“Okay. Boring? It's nice to see trees again. Can I have a cookie?”

“'s what they're there for.” Steve looked over his shoulder, and yeah, it would be awhile before he actually stopped smiling. 

“Steve, did you learn to make fancy-ass coffee for me?”

“...Maybe.”

Bucky burst out laughing and held out his arm. “I want a kiss.”

“In, uh, three minutes and fifteen seconds! I spent an hour learning how to do this, I'm not fucking it up now!” Steve was laughing too, though, trying to keep his hand from shaking as he poured the hot water, and Bucky was _not helping_ especially when he came up behind Steve  to cuddle into him, kissing his ear.

“Stevie, I have been living off of whatever oily sludge they serve at Walter Reed. Before that, I was drinking instant. This will be my first cup of real coffee in two years. I would do _literally anything_ you asked of me right now.”

“God, I thought I was dramatic. Go sit down and eat another cookie, I went to the noisy bakery for you.”

“I'm charmingly dramatic, thank you.” Bucky nuzzled at Steve's temple a little, but did go sit down, which improved Steve's heart rate immensely. “These are really good, thanks. Baby, you know you didn't have to do anything special for me, right?”

“The fuck I didn't. What was I supposed to do, leave the key under the mat for you?”

“Well, no, because that's a stupid place to leave a key. But you're already giving me a place to live and...” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You can pay me back in blowjobs later.” Steve really, _really_ enjoyed the sound of Bucky trying not to choke. And the pile of treats in the middle of the table was going down at a good rate, he was glad to see when he brought their drinks over.

“God, how'd I forget you were an asshole?” Bucky asked admiringly, taking his mug.

“You've been on heavy medication, it's understandable. Bet you also remembered me six foot tall and stunning, thus your obvious confusion,” Steve blithely assured him.

“True about the medication. I remembered right about the stunning, though.”

“You say that to all the girls,” Steve said, batting his eyelashes. He decided that watching Bucky laugh was his favorite thing in the whole world.

They settled into themselves over coffee and cheerful insults, and Steve showed Bucky around the apartment – kitchen, living room, bathroom, tiny study and the bedroom not much larger. It wasn't a surprise when they wound up on the bed, tangled together, kissing for all they were worth.

“Shit, sorry – I didn't mean to...um.” Bucky bit his lip and pulled back what remained of his left arm, just the shoulder and few inches of the upper arm. “Instinct.”

“No, it's okay.” Steve frowned. “Does it hurt to have anything touch you there? Maybe if we spooned, and I was the big spoon...”

“No. I mean, it doesn't hurt, not little touches like that. And this is fine. Just...it looks stupid, like I'm trying to reach out with something that isn't there. And it must feel weird.”

“Huh? No, love, it's fine.” Steve gave him an odd look. “It feels fine, honestly.”

Bucky bit his lip, and snuggled closer, wrapping his right arm a little more securely around Steve's waist. They mirrored each other on the bed, and Steve rested their foreheads together.

“Baby, can I touch your left arm?” Steve asked softly. “Real gentle, I promise.”

“If you want to?”

Steve reached out and cupped Bucky's shoulder, rubbing his hand on the soft material of his shirt. “Good grief, you're a furnace. Not gonna have to use the electric blanket this winter with you nearby.” He trailed his hand down, stroking Bucky's bicep softly, then cupped around the end of the stump, covered in the fabric of his pinned-up shirt sleeve. “SITREP, please.”

“Okay,” Bucky said softly. “I'm okay. That...feels nice.”

“Good. How about this?” Steve slid his hand to Bucky's side and tickled him lightly, groaning when Bucky gave no response. “Oh, fuck off, I've got a boyfriend who's not ticklish?”

“Not there anyway. Sorry not sorry.” Bucky's grin was relaxed, and Steve grumbled when he got a little nuzzle just under his chin. “Precious.”

“Yes, you are.” Steve nipped the end of Bucky's nose. “I can be gross too.”

“Not gross if it's true.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr at dietraumerei.tumblr.com, come hang out with me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and bookmarks and comments! They are ridiculously encouraging.
> 
> Thanks as ever to Zisl for patient beta-reading :)

[The household whiteboard. Steve writes IN ALL CAPS and Bucky's handwriting is a scribble, transcribed here  _ as italics _ ]

 

SHOPPING LIST

MILK

STEAK

BEER?

COFFEE

_this is the most heterosexual shopping list of all time_

YOU'RE BI TOO SO DON'T GIVE ME THAT

_I'm not arguing, just saying. Also can you get more of those cookies? Please?_

CHECK THE CUPBOARD

_um. I did. That's why we need more._

MOTHER OF JESUS IS THIS WHY MY TAXES ARE SO HIGH? DOES EVERYONE IN THE ARMY EAT LIKE YOU DO?

_Sitting on my ass is very exhausting I need fuel steve._

CHECK YOUR BED

_ stevie the next time you tell me that you should be  _ _ in _ _ the bed. We have got to work on your game. _

HEY IT WORKED ON YOU SO FAR ALSO WHAT KIND OF COFFEE DO YOU LIKE?

_Jesus don't get anything special, just whatever's on sale_

FUCK YOU I'M GETTING THE GOOD COFFEE. YOU CAN MAKE IT THOUGH

_ok but only so you stop stealing my mug in the mornings_

I AM ADORABLE IN THE MORNINGS

... _ yes. Of course. As you say. _

XOXOXOXOXO

_sap. Check the bed, and you'll get some real kisses._

 

* * *

 

[Bucky's texts are  _ in italics _ and Steve's are  **bold** ]

_Hey, sorry babe, what did you want me to pick up?_

**Bleach and some of those scrubby sponges? Oooh, and apples if they look good.**

_Right! Sorry. Should've grabbed your note._

Missed Call: Bucky New Phone

Missed Call: Bucky New Phone

_Fuck sorry, ignore those forgot you were teaching._

_Fuck fuck I'm sorry Steve._

_I suck at leaving the house today._

_I'm so sorry._

**Hey, hey, don't be. It's okay, Buck. Nothing we can't live without.**

_I'm sorry._

**It's okay. It'll always be okay, love, it's just groceries. I'll be home soon.**

_Yeah, just groceries, so you would think I wouldn't freak the fuck out_

**Yeah I mean it's not like you just got back from a fucking warzone or anything**

**Sorry**

**I'm on my way home now.**

 

* * *

 

[The household whiteboard, recently wiped clean]

HOUSE RULES

_ kisses may be requested at any time  _ EXCEPT FOR WHEN STEVE IS ON THE PHONE WITH HIS SUPERVISOR WHO IS EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS OLD AND CANNOT DIE OF A HEART ATTACK UNTIL AFTER STEVE GETS HIS DEGREE

DETERMINATIONS OF WHO GETS TO BE LITTLE SPOON WILL BE SETTLED BY ONE (1) GAME OF ROCK PAPER SCISSORS WITH NO RE-DO'S PERMITTED  _ unless bucky says so  _ NO RE-DO'S _ someday i'll find your weakness then I can be little spoon foreverrrrrrr _

_a t-shirt on the door means please leave me alone_

YEAH SORRY ABOUT THAT :( I FUCKED UP

_it's okay sorry I got angry_

IT'S OKAY. HEY LOOK AT US USING OUR WORDS

_ take a photo and send it to sam he'll be so proud _

HE SAYS HE IS AND ALSO WOULD WE LIKE TO MEET HIM FOR LUNCH TOMORROW

_ yeah, if you're sure he meant me too? _

REALLY SURE. END OF THE LINE CAFE, 12:30, IF YOU WEAR A FLAT CAP I WILL PRETEND I DON'T KNOW YOU

_ you totally want my ass _

YES. NOT YOUR STUPID HAT

_ i'll convert you soon _

 

* * *

 

Dear Clint,

Hey, how's it going? Welcome to the most painfully-typed e-mail of all time. (Nah, I'm getting faster with the one-handed typing, but it's not exactly fun.)

Hope you guys are all well, let me know if you need anything. I'm still this side of the grave. Not too much pain, and I'm not even on the really heavy narcotics anymore. PT is okay, I can do most stuff for myself. Not always doing great in the head, though. They're gonna send me to a therapist, so your tax dollars will be put to good use, obviously.

It's really cold. We're gonna put up a Christmas tree this weekend. (Oh yeah, can't remember if I told you, Steve let me move in with him. It's good. He's better than good.) Might even get some snow soon.

Fuck it all. I wish I was back with all of you. I really do. How fucked up is that? All we wanted to do was go home and take a bath for an hour and eat a really good steak and I've done all that, and it's great, but there's no fucking  _ point _ to it all.

Sorry. Maybe those tax dollars'll be put to good use after all. I miss everyone. Tell Dum Dum he can keep my iPod if he can get it working.

I'm so fucking lonely I'm hanging out with an Air Force guy, can you believe that? Well, and Steve. Steve is...he's a saint, honest to god. He's the good part of all this crap.

Anyway. Tell me how all the guys are doing.

Bucky

 

* * *

 

[Bucky's texts are in italics, Steve's are in bold]

_Thanks for the picture of Captain America punching a velociraptor, it's awesome._

**Glad you like it! Let me know if you want to change anything, then I'll do you a real drawing all finished nicely**

_Jesus, Steve, it's perfect, don't go outta your way_

**Hey, it's fun for me too, jerkface. Dunno if I'll have the energy to work on it tonight, but definitely this weekend**

_Everything okay? Are you getting a cold?_

**Nah, just some wobbly heart stuff. I'll be fine, I just need to rest a lot for a day or two.**

_Anything I can do? I can cook tonight and stuff. Um. I can order something in tonight. You got enough meds? I gotta run to the CVS anyway._

**Have you seen my bedside table? I *am* a pharmacy. And no, nothing you can really do, but I wouldn't say no to having some company lying in bed and watching cartoons.**

_I'm your man for that!_

**Good :) Sorry to be kind of a pain.**

_Baby, in the 'health problems fucking up our lives' competition, I win._

**Ha ha, maybe. I think I'll come home soon, I'm not really getting anything done here.**

_Promise me you'll take a taxi?_

**The ever-loving fuck I will, I don't have that kind of money.**

_I'll pay you back. Please, please, Steve? It's a long walk to the subway and you got me a little worried here. Please, for me._

**Considering my heart is pretty much yours at this point, guess I'll take care of it for you and get a taxi. Dinner's on you tonight, though.**

_ No heart I'd rather want. Bed's all turned down, laptop's plugged in and waiting for you. You can even be little spoon. _ _ And dinner'll be here soon. _

**Careful, you'll spoil me.**

_Kind of the point, idiot._

**Leaving now. Think it's my turn to need you a little, baby.**

_What I'm here for._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter either later this week or next week -- I want to time things so that Chapter 6 goes up around Christmas for Reasons.
> 
> I am on tumblr at dietraumerei.tumblr.com
> 
> Also! I know bold/italics can be difficult for some people to read. If you have any suggestions as to how I can better differentiate the boys' texts OR if you want the text of the story in a different format, please don't hesitate to drop me a line, either on here, via tumblr, or my e-mail address is die.traumerei.fandom at gmail dot com.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some sexy sex times to make up for the last chapter being so short...
> 
> (Thank you Zisl for the beta!)

“Hey sweetheart. How's tricks?” Steve turned his head to kiss Bucky's cheek, smiling against it when he rested his chin on Steve's shoulder. “Dinner'll be ready soon.”

“Thanks.” Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's waist and kissed his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about trying to hide, just a little.

“Hey.” Steve set the spatula down and turned in Bucky's embrace, hugging him back. “Bad day?”

“Not really.” Not as bad it could have been and hey, he was alive to have bad days so he shouldn't complain, right? “Sorry.”

“Hush.” 

Bucky bit his lip and tightened his arm around Steve's waist, not sure if he wanted to tune out the stream of soft, soothing things Steve was murmuring to him. That would mean saying stop, and Steve was doing this out of tenderness and kindness and what kind of an asshole would he be to tell this wonderful man to shut up? Bucky couldn't really believe that things would be okay, but he could believe in skinny arms around him and the way Steve held him and the way their dinner smelled so good. So he let the words run through him, running water cutting through a ravine, and breathed slow and deep like he'd learned.

He kissed Steve and  went to set  the table,  and they ate together .  T he spaghetti with meat sauce  _ was _ really good, and the smell of basil and tomato and garlic filling the kitchen was  _ definitely _ good.  They cleaned up and cuddled together on the sofa to watch a few episodes of Star Trek. And then Bucky shyly asked Steve to join him in bed, and he picked the side with Steve's good ear purposely. 

“So I think my therapist sucks. For me, anyway.” Bucky snuggled a little closer, resting his head next to Steve's and drinking in the comfort of the dark room, the big bed, the warm body next to him.

“Why, baby? Something happen today?” Steve ran his fingers through Bucky's hair, the gentle scratching they both knew he loved.

“Not really. Just...I don't get her. She asked me how I felt about my arm being gone.”

“Well, how do you feel?”

“I don't _know_ ,” Bucky said, trying not to sound frustrated and only mostly succeeding. “Sad. Just...sad? Angry. Guilty. Like I want to not care. Like...I miss it. I miss things being easy. I miss shooting.” He closed his eyes, remembered to breathe. “It's _so big_ Steve, everything inside me, and I'm so tired of feeling everything, and I don't know what she wants from me.”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve found his mouth in the dark and kissed him. “You know it's okay if she's not a good fit, right? I had to go through like four therapists before I found one I was okay with.”

“You were in counselling?”

“Mmm. A few years ago. I...didn't do so well when my Mom died. It was my last year of undergrad and I just – I get depressed sometimes. Always have. But with everything going on, I needed help pretty badly,” he explained quietly.

“Oh, Jesus. I didn't know that,” Bucky said, both of them whispering now, like words this real couldn't be spoken in normal tones, not just now and not by them.

“Never came up. Hey, I'm doing okay now. Better'n okay, really.” Steve nudged Bucky with his nose until he drew back enough so that they could kiss. “Definitely better than okay. As much as my body turned against me, guess it was time for mind to do the same is all.”

“Yeah, know the feeling,” Bucky mumbled.

“Ah, fuck, ignore me. Just...it took me awhile, to find someone I trusted with all my shit. 'S'okay if it takes you awhile too.”

“Yeah. And I fucking well will not ignore you. You're important too, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky was pretty sure Steve was aware he wasn't fooling anyone, especially not with the tender kisses being dropped across Bucky's cheek at the moment.

They fell asleep together, Bucky's lips still pressed to the corner of Steve's mouth.

* * *

[Bucky's texts are  _ in italics _ , Steve's  **are bolded** ]

_Hey baby, how was the doctor's appt?_

**All right? Nothing new wrong with me at least :)**

_I'll take it._

_Two questions for you: 1) what do you want for dinner? 2) Can you give me Sam's number? I wanna see about switching therapists, if that's even a thing I can do in the VA, and I think he'll put up with me one more time._

_**1) Anything is fine, as long as it isn't spicy, sorry, my stomach isn't super-happy with me right now :/ I'll cook for myself if it's trouble. 2) I'll send it to you in a moment. He'll be happy to help you, baby, I promise.** _

_For goodness' sake Rogers I can cook something for you. How about an omelette? Nice and gentle and I'll put something good and easy in yours. (Promised I'd take care of you, baby, remember?) And thanks for Sam's number. We should have the poor guy over soon, so he doesn't think I like him just for his connections._

**Omelette sounds good, and thank you. You don't have to take care of me, though!!**

_Calm your tits, I know. It's dinner, Stevie. You can let your boyfriend make you dinner._

**Sorry. Yeah, I can, though if you put arsenic in it, no jury would convict you.**

_Oh my God, and you call me old-fashioned? Arsenic is way too easy to detect. Jesus, have you left the house since 1936?_

**maybe I won't introduce you to Nat, the world might end in fire. Beautiful fire, but fire would definitely be involved.**

_Nah, just a nice, slow flame, to melt my sweet baby._

**OH MY GOD BUCKY**

_Still saving your sugar for me?_

**WHO LET YOU OUT INTO THE WORLD**

_You love it, dollface._

* * *

Steve woke up just enough to burrow a little deeper under the quilt and against Bucky's side.

“Hmm?” Bucky mumbled, curling against Steve a little.

“Cold. You're warm.”

Bucky smiled, eyes still closed, and he freed his arm to wrap around Steve, pulling him close. “No cold Stevie.”

Steve laughed softly, tucking his head under Bucky's chin and snuggled close. “Winter's cold.”

“Got me. Blankets.” Bucky yawned, and kissed his brow. “Other things.”

“Other things? Hmmm.” Steve nuzzled at Bucky's collarbone, curious to see what would happen. It wasn't _so_ very early, and it was a Sunday,  so they could stay in bed all day if they liked.

“Mmm. Sweetheart.” Bucky ducked his head, finding Steve's mouth with his. Steve leaned up, drinking in the sleep-soft kisses, one hand coming up to rest on the back of Bucky's head.

“Best way to wake up,” Steve mumbled, and smiled when Bucky's eyes finally opened. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey yourself.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve's jaw, trailing down his throat, and Steve couldn't stop a small, soft moan. “Like that?”

“God, yes.” Steve stretched a little, baring more of his throat, and Bucky obliged with more kisses. “So good.”

“Good.” Steve was lying on Bucky's arm, but that didn't stop the other man from wrapping it around Steve's torso, his hand curling around Steve's ass, squeezing lightly. “Ooh.”

“You have the tiniest butt in the world,” Bucky teased, nipping a little just below Steve's good ear. “Like it was made for my hand.”

“Maybe it was,” Steve teased, and slid his hand down Bucky's side, stopping at the small of his back, fingertips barely ghosting the sweet curve of muscle. “This okay, baby?”

“Very okay,” Bucky confirmed, smile growing when Steve groped him in return. “Like what you feel?”

“ _God_ yes.” Steve laughed, and kissed him – hard. “I'll like it better when I can see it. Heat should kick on in a few minutes. No hidin' under the blankets then.”

Bucky smiled, and bumped their noses together. “Only if I can see you too.”

Steve made a face, and wrapped both arms around Bucky's waist. “If you want to.”

“I do. Hey.” He nudged them apart a little and kissed Steve, warm and openmouthed, his tongue just flicking out to taste Steve's lips. “I want to see you. You're my gorgeous guy, Stevie.”

“Crazy.” Steve was smiling though, and kissed Bucky before he rolled over, reaching for his glasses and hearing aid. “Sorry, but I really do want to see you. And not have to keep turning my head to hear you."

Bucky kissed his temple, catching the earpiece of his glasses. “If I'm crazy, you're crazy too.”

“Crazy for you,” Steve teased, lying on his back and reaching up to cup his hand around Bucky's cheek as they heard the heating clank on. “How far d'you want to go, baby?”

“Let's see how it goes? But I know...god, Stevie, I want you,” he said, voice going husky. “I want you bad.”

Steve sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist, and he pulled Bucky into his arms, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach, peppering Bucky's throat, his shoulders, finding the place just behind and below his ear that made Bucky moan. “Yes.”

Bucky tried to balance on his right arm, chasing Steve with his mouth, and grunted in frustration when he overbalanced and Steve had to catch him. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Here, sit back,” Steve said, shifting pillows so that Bucky didn't lie directly against the headboard. “Comfy?”

Bucky made a face. “Yeah. Sorry. I swear I'll figure out how to be sexy eventually.”

“Got it down pretty cold from where I'm sitting,” Steve said softly. “Which is too far away.” He shifted up onto his knees and moved to straddle Bucky's thighs, resting his hands on the other man's shoulders. “Good?”

“Jesus, yes.” Bucky grinned, running his hand down Steve's back, stroking the soft skin. “You're really mine?”

“Yours.” Steve's smile grew, his face almost glowing. “I'm _yours_. Like you're mine.”

“We have the best conversations first thing in the morning,” Bucky said, pulling Steve close, just savoring the warm skin against his, glad they'd both gone to bed shirtless, despite the chill in the air. He ran his hand down Steve's back, following the line of his spine, his thumb tracing the sharp knobs, the wiry muscle on either side. 

Steve laughed softly, arching his back a little so he could lean over and kiss a line across Bucky's shoulder, nipping lightly here and there just to feel the other man tense beneath him. “Still good, baby?”

“Unbelievably.” Bucky slid his hand down a little lower, underneath the waistband of Steve's flannel pants, and squeezed. “Unh. Please, Stevie...”

Steve rolled their hips together, slow and careful, and couldn't stop his head from falling back when his cock pressed against Bucky's, both of them hard and aching. They hadn't yet done much more than kiss and cuddle. A few caresses above the waist, just getting used to one another, Bucky getting used to his changed body.

“God _yes,”_ Bucky breathed, lifting his hips to press them together again. “Holy shit how did I not have my hands all over you ages ago...”

Steve laughed, a little breathless, and wrapped his arms around Bucky's shoulders pressing their foreheads together. “You're worth waiting for.”

“Sweet-talking man.” They rocked together, kisses growing messy, wilder, until Steve groaned and reached down, tugging at Bucky's sweatpants. “Off. Wan' feel you.”

Bucky lifted his hips, letting go of Steve just long enough to brace against his right arm, and Steve pulled the waistband down, making an appreciative noise.

“Now you,” Bucky muttered, after he kicked his sweatpants the rest of the way off. He reached over and hooked two fingers on the edge of his lover's waistband.

Steve leaned over to kiss him while he wriggled out of his sleepwear, and then straddled Bucky's legs again, keening when skin met skin, at last, at long last.

“Oh, God, yes...” Bucky reached between them, wrapping his hand around both their cocks, his strokes long and slow. “Baby, please...”

Steve, it turned out, was a bit of a screamer. He hid his face in the curve where Bucky's shoulder met his neck, making the most beautiful keening sounds as he rolled his hips, and Bucky's hand moved faster, his thumb glancing over the head of Steve's cock, then pressing a little more, their hips rocking together. “That's it,” he murmured, encouraging Steve to press closer, their hips grinding against each other. “Come for me, baby. God, you're beautiful like this, that's it, you make the best sounds, love, come for me, gonna make you feel so good --”

Steve wailed, and moved his hips in a way that had Bucky seeing stars and biting the inside of his mouth so he could be here, be aware, pressing kisses to Steve's face as he came, cock pulsing in Bucky's hand and painting his belly.

“There's my sweetheart,” Bucky crooned, bringing his hand up finally to stroke Steve's hair. “Fuck. Fuck, you're gorgeous, you're _so_ gorgeous, all of you, every bit of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, and kissed Bucky, then slid down his body, nudging Bucky's thighs apart so he could lie between them. “Mouth okay?” he asked, gazing up at Bucky, his mouth just inches from Bucky's cock.

“Oh my God, _yes_ , fuck, yes...Stevie, Stevie, my Stevie.” If Steve was a screamer, Bucky was a talker, babbling encouragement, Steve's name, whatever words tumbled from his lips. They must have been encouraging the way Steve was going at him and there was no _way_ he was going to last much longer.

T hen he looked down and saw those huge blue eyes gazing up at him through the most ridiculous lashes, and he barely choked out a warning before he was coming, Steve swallowing it, lapping at the head of his cock as though to ask for more.

Bucky lay back against the pillows, the only reason he was still upright, as the aftershocks rolled through him. He was just aware of Steve kissing his thighs, so soft, his hands wrapping around Bucky's waist, thumbs rubbing soft circles on Bucky's stomach.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky finally breathed, pulling Steve up while he slid down the bed so that his lover rested atop him, their bodies pressed together. “That was...”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, pressing a kiss to the point of Bucky's cheekbone. “I knew you were worth waiting for, but baby, you are _really worth waiting for_. Worth everything.”

Bucky laughed, and wrapped his arm around Steve's back, hugging him tightly. “You too. Mmmm. Blanket. You'll get cold.”

Steve made a face. “Ew, no. Shower. We're gross.”

“Room for both of us?”

“Lucky I'm skinny.” Steve didn't make any immediate move, though, snuggling down against Bucky instead. “You're the best way to wake up ever.”

“You too, baby,” Bucky murmured, wrapping his legs around Steve's to keep them warm until they could disentangle themselves enough to get into the shower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on Tumblr: dietraumerei.tumblr.com
> 
> Next chapter to go up sometime next week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the least-realistic portrayal of high security clearance EVER!
> 
> As ever, I am on tumblr at dietraumerei.tumblr.com
> 
> And thank you to Zisl for the beta!

Dear Steve,

So David suggested that I keep a diary, and that was pretty awful, because why would I just write to no one? So I'm writing to you instead, even though I probably won't ever show you this. It's just – it was so easy to write to you when I was overseas. And if everything hadn't happened, I'd still be writing to you, so this makes sense. Somehow.

But everything did happen. I'm down an arm, and I live in Brooklyn with you, and I have no idea what to do with my life. So here is what I think about all of these things:

I hate having lost the arm. I can't tell you much about what I did over there, but I can tell you that I was a sniper, a really good one. The best. It's what I was made to do, I think. And now...I can't. I mean, I might be able to shoot again someday, but it'll never be what it was, and it's not like I can keep soldiering. The dignity of my choice is ripped away. And I guess I signed up for that – except I was okay with dying. I really was, because I would have died for something bigger than myself. I took on everything that goes with soldiering with open eyes, but somehow I forgot that being hurt, being hurt  _ forever _ , was part of the possibilities. And I hate it, and I'm so angry. If  only a few things had been different – tiny things! – I would have both arms and be overseas still, with my unit, making you proud, making  _ everyone _ proud. And now, what the fuck is the point of me?

I live in Brooklyn with you. Stevie, this is what keeps me going every day. Making you coffee and kissing you, getting you out the door on time and going for walks in the park with you. Wrapping around you when you come home all cold, the two of us making dinner together. It's everything, it's my joy and my privilege.  I feel so much like don't belong  in this civilian world , but I love it. I love sharing a bed with you, I love hearing your secrets and telling you mine. I love learning where you have tattoos and I love the way you smile at me. These things are warm, and good, and home, and I pray, I actually  _ pray _ that I can make you as happy. I'm not so great right now, but I'll be as good for you as I can. I swear, I will always try to be the boyfriend you deserve. I'm so sorry we had to be falling for each other while I sort my head and my body out. I swear I will make it worth it for you.

I have no idea what to do with my life. The VA wants to put me in some program with a load of other disabled ex-soldiers to give us stuff to do, and it even sounds like it won't be busywork. I don't know. Maybe it'd be good for me? It feels so sad, though. I just want to put my head down and push forward. I want to do something in science, maybe engineering, but I don't think I'm smart enough for that. I don't know. Some days I don't want to get out of bed, so I guess I've got to get my head sorted out first. I just don't want to be useless, you know? I need a purpose.

Okay, the fucking diarying thing is good. Don't think I'll show this to you just yet, but maybe someday.

 

Bucky

 

* * *

[Steve's texts are in bold, Bucky's in italics]

 

**Hey sweetheart. Mind if I invite Nat over for dinner?**

_No, of course not. Want me to clear out?_

**Fuck no! The point is for her to meet you, dipshit :)**

_Just checking! Should I go get a bottle of wine?_

**Nah, she's more of a vodka person. But we need cheese for the chili. You'll save me a stop on the way home if you can run to the grocery store...**

_I think I can take a break from my busy schedule of staring out the window and writing down my feelings._

**Ha ha, that's my boy. I'll be home in a few hours. Xoxoxoxoxo**

_Loser. Xo_

 

* * *

 

“Do I look all right?”

Steve rested his hands on Bucky's shoulders, holding him at arms-length, and cocked his head to one side, regarding him carefully. “In my artist's opinion?”

“Steve...”

“You'll do.” Steve went up on tip-toe and kissed Bucky lightly. “You're gorgeous. And you look fine, baby. Dark blue makes your eyes really stand out.”

“Thank you.” Bucky frowned, and ran his hand through his hair again. “And yes, I know I'm being stupid.”

“I make no comment.” Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist, though, and looked at them both in the big mirror. “We look good together,” he said softly, a note of surprise just barely in his voice.

Bucky smiled, meeting Steve's eyes in the mirror. “We do. Help me with my sleeve?” He could pin it up himself, but it was a pain in the ass, and asking Steve to help him was a kind of an offering. Something to make up for him being all prickly.

“Of course.” Steve's hands were quick and gentle, pinning the sleeve up, and he kissed Bucky one last time before heading out of the bedroom. “Dinner can sit in the crockpot, but I'll start making drinks now. Want anything?”

“Just a soda,” Bucky said, making a face at the impressive array of little amber medicine bottles with his name on them, many of which had dire warnings of what would happen if he had alcohol. “God I miss beer.”

“You had opiates, stop complaining,” Steve yelled from the kitchen.

“Past tense,” Bucky reminded him, moving through the apartment to double-check their living room. It wasn't exactly pristine, but at least there weren't random articles of clothing still scattered about. “I am no longer on the polite version of heroin.”

Well. No one's  _ underwear _ was scattered about, and he felt that that was quite enough to expect of them, thank you.

“Nat believes in vodka and plenty of it, so it's probably good at least one of us will be sober. And it'll be the one of us that can sling the other of us over his shoulder, if need be,” Steve pointed out, over the sound of ice clinking into glasses. 

“I'll make sure you're on a soft surface,” Bucky promised, wondering if it was just a little too vain to check his reflection in the window.

The doorbell rang at precisely 6:30, and Steve ran to go let Natasha in, while Bucky took deep breaths. He'd already met Sam and they got on like a house on fire, but he was pretty sure Sam could be friendly and kind and personable with a rock. Nat was going to be something else.

“Of course I brought dessert, I'm not a savage like some people I could mention,” was the first thing Bucky heard, and he was in a very happy, very monogamous relationship but good goddamn Natasha's voice was low and rough and then she was walking through the door and she _totally_ always had guys look at her like they'd just been hit over the head, right? She must.

“I am not a savage, I'm cheap,” Steve said with careful dignity. “There is a difference. Natasha Romanoff, James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Bucky said, holding out his hand. Natasha's hand was warm, her handshake firm, and her eyes didn't stutter over his missing arm. And she smiled at him.

Bucky wondered if he was in love.

“James. Or Bucky?”

“Either is fine.” Bucky bit back a 'ma'am'; the power she carried with her was unmistakable. “Can I take your coat?”

“Ah, a gentleman – good work Stevie.” Natasha let him help her out of the wool peacoat. “Thank you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but Bucky noticed he was looking decidedly smug, too. “I'll put these in the fridge,” he said, holding up a white box with something French written on the top in gold script. “And get drinks.”

Bucky hung the coat by the door – technically Natasha had been closer, but it was the thought that counted – and tried not to be too uncomfortable as he sat in the big easy chair, leaving Steve and Nat the sofa.

Natasha smiled at him, honest and open. “I abhor small talk. Comfortable silence until Steve gets back?”

Bucky laughed and nodded, relaxing a little. “I think I've lost the ability to do the small talk thing.”

Natasha shrugged. “It'll come back. Took me awhile but I can fake it.”

“You were in the Forces?”

“Not exactly.” Her smile this time was professional and polished. “I work in intelligence. You don't have the security clearance to know where.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

Natasha's face was calm as she rattled off an alphanumeric string. Bucky was impressed to see that she  _ just _ about didn't twitch a muscle as he replied with a similar string of letters and numbers.

“Obviously that's the last one I was given,” he added dryly. “Been a bit out of commission lately. Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.”

“107th? Hm. And I'm well aware of your current status,” Natasha said, just as dryly. “Every day,” she added, as Steve came back into the room. “At least once a day. I may know more about your health than you do.”

“Oh my God,” Steve said, doing an about-face. “Nat...”

“Oh, calm down, you had to vent to somebody,” she said. “And come back here with my drink.” 

“You told Nat about how I was doing?” Bucky asked curiously as Steve slunk over to give him his soda.

“Not...like, not details. Just how...generally how you were doing.” Steve was gradually going redder and redder. “Stuff I was worried about. Or happy about. Just...yeah.”

“Oh, honey.” Bucky reached up for a kiss, just a quick one. “Good. You keep too much to yourself.”

Steve just mumbled something and went to sit next to Nat, who happily took her drink, and wrapped one arm around Steve's shoulders. “It's like he's met you, Steve.”

“Hey! How about that TV show that everyone's watching and we can get a good ten minutes' conversation out of!” Steve offered, and Bucky grinned at Natasha. He was _definitely_ in love, in a platonic 'hey let's take care of and also fuck with my boyfriend' sort of way.

Natasha, it turned out, was as charming as Sam, if less easy to talk to. Bucky noticed that she never spoke much about herself, though she had plenty of stories about Steve, and he could offer one or two as well.

“The nurses started actually _trying_ to gross him out,” he said, well after they'd finished dinner. “I think they had a pool going.”

Steve looked smug. And drunk, but mostly smug. “Mom was a nurse. I don't get grossed out.”

“Steve, they got some guy's permission to let you watch his debridement treatment. _I_ had to give _him_ fifty bucks when you barely blinked at it.”

“Not sorry.” Steve saluted Bucky with his glass, and took another drink from it. “When you've had a lifetime spent in and out of doctor's offices and hospitals _and_ your mother doesn't believe in sparing you work stories, a little hamburger-like flesh is nothing.”

Bucky made a face at him and shuddered. “I don't want to know.”

Natasha laughed, and poked Steve in the side. “You don't even have any cool scars, get over yourself.”

“Keyhole surgery is a welcome advance in medicine that has led to a better quality of life for patients and vastly faster recovery times,” Steve recited smugly. “And I don't need cool scars like you, I've got tattoos.”

“Where did you get surgery?” Bucky asked, and yelped a little when this led to Steve whipping his shirt off.

“Jesus Christ, you're like a toddler,” Nat commented, and pointedly topped up her own glass, but not Steve's. And not just because Steve was across the room, practically on Bucky's lap.

“You almost can't see 'em, they blend in 'cause I'm so pale,” he said, wriggling so that the light was full on his chest. “See? Here and here. They wanted to check my heart from the inside, with one of those little camera-thingys.”

Bucky brushed his thumb over the faint scars. He'd noticed them before, but thought they were nothing. “So I see. And as much as I'm loving the free show, go put your shirt on before you freeze.” Unable to resist, he kissed the red, white and blue stars that scattered across the top of Steve's right arm. That was at least slightly less pathetic than what he wanted to do, which was press his mouth to tiny white scars, feeling Steve's heart thrumming just an inch or two away.

“You're no fun,” Steve announced, before rejoining Nat and slipping his shirt back on.

“Oh yes he is,” Natasha piped up, and grinned at him. “I know the reputation of the 107th, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Oh my God.”

“You should know that that goat was never the same again, afterwards.”

“Oh my _God_.” Bucky buried his face in his hand to Nat's dulcet peals of laughter. “No. That's _classified_ , Nat.”

“Only parts of it,” she sing-songed. 

“Oh, God, do you _both_ have clearance?” Steve said, looking from one to the other. “Christ. I need to drink faster. Oh, and you're coming with me to DC the next time I need to do some touchy research,” he informed Bucky.

“I _had_ clearance,” Bucky corrected him, and it almost didn't hurt to use the past tense. “I'll just be there to sharpen your pencils or whatever.”

“You did? Seriously?”

Bucky smiled a little. “Seriously.”

“The 107th did some very, very specialized work,” Natasha added quietly. “That pen-pal program paired you up with a very unusual, very valuable man.”

Steve gave her an odd look. “I knew  _ that _ .” He shrugged and lay back on the sofa's arm. “And I like the idea of having my own personal pencil-carrier. You can protect my table and carry my books and make me look way more important than I am.”

Bucky laughed, because it meant the strange, bittersweet moment would pass. “With pleasure.”

They chatted a little more until Natasha had to leave. Bucky felt pretty well his old self, helping her into her coat and kissing her goodbye on the cheek.

“It was wonderful meeting you,” she said, and he suspected she meant it. “If you can stand to work for the more unusual bits of the government, just let me know where you're interested in.”

Bucky smiled and shrugged. “Maybe. Have a good night, and it was lovely to meet you too, Natasha.”

Steve slipped out to let her out of the main door while Bucky cleared their glasses away.

“She really, _really_ liked you,” Steve reported, coming into the kitchen to help Bucky clean up. “Seriously. It takes her forever to open up to people.”

“Well, I liked her.” Bucky paused, and smiled, thinking back on the evening. “She really cares about you.”

“Mmm. Yeah.” Steve blushed, and pushed himself into Bucky's arms. “Good evening for you?”

“Yeah. Really good, actually.” Bucky leaned down and kissed Steve lightly, then not-so-lightly. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve didn't wait for an answer, just yawned and cuddled close. “Dishes'll wait. Bed. You, me?”

“Bed, you and me,” Bucky confirmed. They'd slept apart the last few nights, but he felt ready to have Steve all nuzzled up to him again. “C'mon, drunky.”

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

[a note left on the table, the next morning]

 

Bucky –

You're still fast asleep, so I'll leave this for you. There's coffee in the pot if you can lower yourself to the percolated stuff. And I sliced an extra bagel, if you want it.

I'm so proud of you. It's too fucking cheesy to tell you, but I'm so proud of you, every day. Never think otherwise. If I write it down, you can't deny it! (And also maybe I miss writing to you, just a tiny bit. I love having you here in my life, but we're better at this than we are at talking, huh?)

Here's another thing I'm too chicken to tell you out loud: I love you.

I'll be home around three.

Xo Steve

 

* * *

[text message from Bucky to Steve's phone]

 

_I love you too. Chicken. Hurry home._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a niiice long chapter for the holidays. With sex in it, even! (Following this semi-carefully timed chapter, updates will go back to 2x a week or so.)
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com. Come hang out with me!

Steve let himself into the apartment, relaxing immediately in the warmth. It was the second week of December, and it was sleeting, and everything was terrible outside of these four walls.

He blinked and looked around. Nat King Cole was playing in the background, and there was a Christmas tree taking up maybe a quarter of the floorspace in the living room. Bucky was sitting cross-legged in front of it, making a popcorn garland. He was wearing a Santa hat and a big, cozy-looking fisherman's sweater. Something smelled _amazing_.

“What,” said Steve.

“Stevie!” Bucky bounced up from the floor and came over to pull him into a hug. “I got us a tree since we couldn't go out over the weekend.” They had both felt pretty terrible – Steve with the last dregs of a cold and Bucky barely able to make it to the corner store and back before having a full-blown panic attack, courtesy...they still weren't sure what, actually.

“What,” said Steve.

“Shit, you're not allergic to the real trees, right? Only I know where to go to get really nice ones and they delivered and set it in the stand after I tried and it was hilarious and terrible. Oh, and I ordered some more ornaments, since you only had the one little box. They're better if you make 'em though, really, I've got some gingerbread dough ones cooling. And we can leave the popcorn strings out for the birds once Christmas is over.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Bucky grinned, ducking his head a little and rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh yeah, sorry, I should have warned you. I get a little crazy about Christmas. It's like a switch gets turned on in my head around St. Lucia day and I just...get like this. Is it okay?” he asked, suddenly shy. “I can keep it toned-down and all, shit, I should've asked about the tree--”

“No! No, Bucky, this is fine. This is...adorable, actually.” Steve finally shrugged out of his coat and went up on tiptoe to wrap his arms around Bucky's shoulders and kiss him. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And Jesus, Steve, you're _freezing.”_ Bucky frowned and wrapped an arm around Steve's waist, cuddling him close. “Go get a shower or something before you catch your death. Then you can help me with the popcorn strings.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Steve said, more than a little bemused, but he _was_ sort of cold and a shower would feel good. “Don't do too much without me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. Go warm up, doll.” Bucky gave him a little smack on the bottom and Steve didn't stop laughing until he was in the bathroom.

He showered as quickly as he could get away with, staying in until he just stopped shivering and could feel all his toes.

Steve carefully ignored the fact that, if left to his own devices, he would probably have stayed sort of cold in his soaked jeans, but he _did_ pick out a sweater that he knew he looked good in. And dark red skinny jeans were kind of Christmassy, right?

“Hey, gorgeous,” Bucky greeted him. He was back to sitting on the floor, having worked out how to get popcorn onto a string single-handed, but he set that aside to pull Steve into his lap.

Bucky tasted like mulled cider, and the smell of pine was everywhere and he was so _warm_ here, and Steve thought he could be forgiven for taking his time with the kisses.

“You're amazing,” he murmured, bumping their noses together a little before nuzzling Bucky's cheek. “How did I not know this about you?”

Bucky blushed, and Steve wondered if it was possible to pass out from being in love. “It sounds weird but I sort of...forget, the rest of the year? I mean, I _know_ I get like this but it feels distant until I'm suddenly in full-on Christmas mode. Clint was threatening to e-mail you to warn you about it.”

“ _Oh_. Oh, that makes this e-mail I got from him last week make a _lot_ more sense,” Steve said. He wriggled a little to pull out his phone and opened the e-mail up to show Bucky. “No scrolling, please, I'm getting intel from him on what to get you for Christmas.”

“Steve, just put a bow on your ass and lie under the tree,” Bucky said, and utterly failed to dodge a smack.

> _To: srogers@mail.history.edu_
> 
> _From: PizzaDogDaddy@gmail.com_
> 
> _Steve – don't know if anybody wanred you, propably not, but keep an eye on Bucky over Christmas, k? Just trust me on this._

“I thought you would get depressed or something,” Steve explained. “And then after we both had the weekend from hell...”

Bucky groaned. “Fuck's sake, Clint, use your  _words_ man. Sorry, baby. I'll yell at him for worrying you.”

“Don't you dare, he meant well. And he gave me some _great_ ideas.” Steve grinned, and wrapped his arms around Bucky, hugging him tightly. “God. I'm so happy you're here. Is that horribly selfish?”

“What? No. Why the hell would you think that?”

“'Cause I've only got you here because you got hurt,” Steve said, voice muffled from where his face was pressed into Bucky's shoulder. “You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have been hurt, ever, and I shouldn't be so happy I get you for Christmas a year early.”

“Oh, honey.” Bucky sighed, and rested his chin against Steve's head. “Yeah, it sucks. I don't even know how I feel about it all. It's too big, still.” He turned his head to kiss Steve's hair, and they held each other tightly. “Will you hate me if I say I wish I was still out there, fighting?”

“I won't ever hate you, dumbass. Especially not for being honest.” Steve pulled back a little, gently, just so he could see Bucky's face and kiss him. “You ever want to just sit down and scream about how it wasn't supposed to _be_ like this?”

“Only every day or so.” Bucky smiled wryly. “I love you. I love being here with you. But you were supposed to get me back whole and not fucked up in twenty different ways. We were supposed to just be able to fall for each other, natural-like. I was supposed to stay and fight and keep you safe. Make the choice, and have it be honored.”

Steve sighed, and touched his lips to Bucky's forehead. “I was supposed to be worried sick about you, and miss you, and never get a phone call that you were at Walter Reed. You make my fucking world go 'round, but the trade-off to get you home early...it isn't worth it. It isn't _fair_ , and you're the one who had to pay.”

“I'm sort of glad you understand.”

“I don't, I _can't_ ,” Steve argued. “I've been sick and disabled and not had many choices because of it my whole life. And now I've got this huge wonderful thing that makes me _so happy,_ but it's at the expense of your health and your own joy, so basically...fuck the world.”

Bucky laughed, and pulled Steve a little closer. “Fuck the world,” he agreed. “At least we've got company in our feelings.”

“Name the feeling, accept it, and don't let it run your life,” Steve recited in a sing-song. “Or some shit like that.”

“You missed your calling as a therapist,” Bucky said dryly. “Truly.”

“Oh, look who's the expert now?” Steve said. “The hell with what I'm supposed to be feeling. Is there any mulled cider left?”

“Plenty. And some brandy to spike yours.”

They only kissed a little bit longer before Steve went to fill both their mugs, returning to sit across from Bucky, making the popcorn garland as he was directed.

 

* * *

 

After dinner they decorated the tree with the garlands and the ornaments Bucky had made and what few Steve already owned. He found a string of lights from somewhere and they turned off everything but the fairy lights and lay down together under the tree, looking up through the dark piney boughs and the little points of brightness.

Steve rested his head on Bucky's shoulder, breathing the moment in. “You know this is gonna be the best Christmas ever, right?”

Bucky laughed, knocking their heads together gently. “C'mon, nothing can compete with Christmases when you were a little kid.”

Steve made a face. “Trust me, everything can compete with them. Mom usually worked, and even if she didn't, we just...didn't get into it?” He grinned over at Bucky. “I'm serious. This is going to be my best Christmas ever. Thank you.”

Bucky rolled onto his side so he could reach over and cuddle Steve close. “You're welcome. You know it's gonna be this bad every year, right?”

“Lookin' forward to it, Buck.” And if either of them were a little overwhelmed at the thought of not just this Christmas together, but next Christmas, and the one after that, of years and years together, they didn't say it. It was better to kiss, to touch, to undress one another and move together, laugh about getting scratches from the pine needles, move together again, and make love in the dark, sweet place they had made.

 

* * *

 

Later, they would remember those two weeks, from just before Christmas to just after New Years', in a kind of golden glow. A sweet time full of friends and spiced wine and baking. Steve was home most of the time, and it seemed as though they were always touching whenever they were in the same room – everything from light pats to a shoulder or back, to wrapping around one another and snuggling close, but always that grounding contact.

Steve went to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and came out of the church to find Bucky waiting for him, tall and handsome under a streetlight. It was a bitterly cold, clear night, and Steve was happy to be pulled into a hug, pressing his face against the rough fabric of Bucky's coat. He warmed quickly on the walk home, Bucky's arm around his shoulders.

“ You didn't have to come and get me,” he chided, then totally betrayed his words by pressing close. “It's freezing out.”

“Which is why you're not walking home alone,” Bucky replied. “Besides, it's nice. Everything is quiet, and there aren't so many people. Easier this way.”

Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist and pressed a little closer. “It's pretty, isn't it? I remember walking home with Mom, the years she wasn't working, and everything always seemed still and beautiful and perfect.”

Bucky made a little humming noise of agreement. “I was always sent to bed early – Santa and all, you know? – but I remember one year I stayed up and just pressed up against the window, watching the night. Couldn't see any stars, but it started to snow, and I could watch the flakes under the streetlights. Think I fell asleep that way.”

“Too bad there's no snow this year,” Steve said. “Seems like your first Christmas back should be some over-the-top Norman Rockwell scene, really welcome you home.”

“Hey, got a pretty good welcome as it is,” Bucky protested quietly. He paused, and turned to face Steve, still holding him close. “The best.”

“Aw, Buck...”

“Don't you aw at me, mister. I'm warm and fed and l-loved, and what the hell is better than that.” He really hadn't meant for his voice to break, but.

Steve looked like he was about to call him a sap, but it was dark and secret where they were standing, and church bells were still ringing around them, filling the night with their calls, and the truth seemed safe, not so scary and big. “Nothing,” he said, standing up on tip-toe to wrap his arms around Bucky's shoulders, burying his face in the scarf Nat had given Bucky the week before. “Nothin's better than that. Not if you feel even half of what I'm feelin'.”

Bucky just held him tight, no words for the moment.

When they got home, Steve pulled out the home-made eggnog and they lit candles and turned on the fairy lights, making the little living room glow.  They had already agreed that presents would be opened on Christmas Eve, because sleeping in Christmas Day was the best gift.

The two of them passed packages back and forth;  books and DVD's for each other, a nice sweater for Bucky that Steve had  found . Chocolate  for both of them from Nat and a computer game from Sam,  a bottle of wine from Steve's students, and then –

Bucky held the tiny, flat package out shyly. “Hey. One last thing for you. It's...um. You'll see.”

Steve weighed it in his hand – light, small, but Bucky was tapping his fingers in the way he did when he was nervous. “Okay.” He pulled open one end of the little envelope, and Bucky's dog tags spilled out onto his hand.

Steve froze, just for a moment, then gently moved the ball-chain so that the flat bits of metal fanned out on his hand. BARNES, JAMES B. 18399278 O POS. He traced the letters with a delicate fingertip.

“If..if you don't want to wear them, that's okay,” Bucky was saying, his voice hesitant. “I just felt like...they're of me, but they're not  _ me _ anymore you know? And you been so good to me, given me so much, and I don't have any way to make it up to you except...” He trailed off, and swallowed hard. “Thought you could keep 'em with your Dad's, anyway.”

“ _ Bucky _ .” Steve slipped the chain over his head, and threw himself at Bucky, hugging him so tightly it made his arms hurt. “Jesus Christ. Are you absolutely sure?”

“I gave 'em to you, didn't I?” Bucky smiled, and wrapped his arm around Steve, rubbing his back lightly. “ Seems right, you having them.”

“I love them. I love  _ you _ . Thank you, thank you.” Steve pressed kisses to the side of Bucky's neck, his cheek, loosened his arms enough to lean back and kiss above each eye, and finally press their mouths together, sharing a long, tender kiss. “What did I do to deserve  you ?”

“You must've kicked puppies for fun in a past life to get stuck with me,” Bucky teased, easing back and looking Steve up and down. He reached out a fingertip to touch the tags resting against Steve's shirt, and smiled. “I was right. They look perfect on you.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “Proud to wear 'em, you know that.”

“God you're a loser.” Bucky leaned over and kissed Steve's cheek, almost delicate in his motions. “Love you. Thank you.”

“Buck, thanks don't come into it...” Steve shook his head, and scooped the tags up to drop them down under his shirt, safe against his skin. He pressed his hand against his chest for just a moment, and carefully breathed through the way they pressed against his chest, just below his heart. A poorly-made heart, even more poorly-made lungs, and now this symbol of everything he'd ever wanted, this part of the man he loved who had given so, so much. It was too much to take in, so he didn't.

Instead he cupped Bucky's face in his hands and kissed him, mouth first, lingering there, only reluctantly pulling away from open-mouthed kisses to press more kisses to his face, his brow, his hair, moaning a little when Bucky started working his way down Steve's throat, suckling softly just below and behind his ear.

“Love you,” Steve breathed against the warm, now-familiar skin, the way Bucky's shampoo smelled, the cologne he'd put on because he was a dandy like that, the wholeness of him.

“Love you too,” Bucky mumbled, his hand tugging Steve's shirt-tail free so he could run his hand up over Steve's back, the skin of his palm still a little rough.

“Bed?” Steve asked, before he could get a little too comfortable on the sofa. Not that the living room wasn't perfectly fine, but their bed was big and soft and they could stretch out together.

“Mmm, bed,” Bucky agreed, and kissed him once more. “Go. I'll put out the candles, be right behind you.”

“Better be,” Steve said, stealing one more kiss.

He undressed quickly in the bedroom, thankful for the little shot of bravery from the brandy in his eggnog. Bucky loved his body, and told him so regularly, but he still was pretty sure there wasn't anything worth showing off. Still – if nothing else, they'd laugh over him draping himself across the bed, naked and already half-hard, lights deliberately low. He kept his hearing aid and glasses, opting to look stupid but actually be able to see and hear his lover. And he kept the dog tags on, because there was no way in hell he would voluntarily take them off, ever.

Steve was seconds away from crawling under the covers in total embarrassment when Bucky came in, and froze in the doorway, his jaw dropping just slightly.

“Um,” said Steve.

“Jesus God,” said Bucky, and it didn't sound like a joke, or flippant, or even particularly sexual. It sounded, more than anything, like a prayer.

Steve smiled and held out one hand. “Hey. Gettin' kinda self-conscious here.”

“Don't you dare,” Bucky said, his voice thick. “Don't you dare think you're anything less than perfection right now.” He came over to the bed, leaning over onto one arm so he could kiss Steve deeply. “My God,” he murmured against Steve's mouth. “How are you mine?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Steve mumbled, pulling Bucky down to lie heavy atop him. “Get over here. Wanna feel you.” He reached between them for one of the pair of dog tags, and ran the edge along Bucky's lips, tracing them lightly. “Gorgeous. Perfect. Glorious.”

Bucky blushed, and rolled his hips – not entirely voluntarily, Steve thought.

Then he didn't think much at all, groaning and pushing up against Bucky. He spread his legs so that Bucky lay between them and tilted his hips up, rubbing against the soft denim. “Why are you dressed?”

“Because someone – oh _Jesus_ Steve – just grabbed me as soon as I was in the room,” Bucky managed, between pressing kisses along Steve's shoulder. “Fuck, baby, yes --”

Steve made a frustrated little noise and wove his fingers through Bucky's hair, pulling his head up for a long, hard kiss, all teeth and tongues and hunger. “Fuck,” he panted. “Up. Wanna unwrap _you_.”

Bucky rolled over and it took a moment for him to stop laughing enough to sit up. A moment Steve was secretly glad for, as he wasn't interested in the night being over as soon as it started, so to speak.

“Well, I _do_.”

Bucky grinned up at him. “So unwrap me.”

“Stand up.” Steve's voice was soft, but there was definite command in it, and Bucky scrambled to stand by the side of the bed. “There, perfect.”

Steve smiled, and leaned back, and just let himself _look_. Bucky's hair was messy from rolling around in the bed, and Steve moved onto his knees so he could brush the wavy locks back, the way Bucky liked it. He had taken off his sweater when they were exchanging gifts, and the soft Henley he wore stretched just a little across his shoulders. Steve tugged on the hem, lifting the shirt up and over Bucky's head, careful with the pinned-up left arm. He grinned when Bucky still stood there, patient and gorgeous and utterly his, and Steve leaned forward to kiss just below the hollows of his collarbones, first right, then left. “Beautiful,” he whispered, and smiled when he felt Bucky shiver. “You are, you know.”

“You really, truly believe that, don't you?” Bucky murmured. “The way you look at me...”

“Is the way you should be looked at,” Steve finished for him, wrapping one hand around the back of Bucky's neck. He kissed Bucky's pulse and trailed his lips down until he was just below where a shirt-collar would ride, just a little left of the midline of Bucky's body. He sucked the soft skin there until he was quite sure there would be a mark the next morning, then soothed the little bruise with a kiss.

Bucky inhaled hard, and his hand rested on Steve's waist, for comfort or for balance or just for the pleasure of touch – Steve didn't much care, and it wasn't important to whatever game they were playing, the game where he made Bucky happy, and Bucky stood there and let him.

He kissed Bucky's chest once more, then pulled away and got off the bed, turning Bucky so that he stood with his back to the bed, and Steve stood in front of him. He undid Bucky's belt efficiently, coiling it and putting it on the bureau behind him and then, very slowly, popped the button on his jeans.

“Stevie, for the love of God...”

Steve laughed, and went down on his knees, just to see what kind of noise Bucky would make. He was not disappointed. Taking pity on the poor man – and on himself – he unzipped Bucky's jeans and pulled them, and his underwear, down, nudging at Bucky's feet until he stepped free and Steve could toss the skin-warm fabric somewhere out of the way.

Still on his knees, he smiled up at Bucky and stroked his thighs, thumbs tracing the lines of the muscles beneath the skin. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“H-hey.”

Steve paused, and tugged on Bucky's hips until he sat down and Steve could shuffle forward on his knees and kiss him on the mouth. “What's this, then?” he murmured, linking his fingers with Bucky's, his free hand stroking down Bucky's back. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Don't mind me. Just...goddamn, I'm lucky. I'm so lucky, Steve.”

Steve smiled, and kissed him again. “Makes two of us. Can I suck you off?”

Bucky nearly choked on his laughter. “You look so sweet and innocent when you talk dirty, it's great.” He laughed harder at Steve's proud grin. “Yes, good God, please.”

Steve laughed, and leaned in for one last kiss, resting his hands on Bucky's shoulders, then running them down his arms, right hand pausing to lightly cup the stump at the end of Bucky's left arm, caressing the skin there just a little with his thumb, before he continued the caress along Bucky's ribs, his waist, finally stopping at his hips. With Bucky sitting, it was easy as anything to lean over, spreading his knees so he was low enough to rest most of his weight on the bed between Bucky's legs, and finally, _finally_ get his mouth on Bucky's cock.

He was greedy, and didn't care. Licking, taking Bucky as far as he could then pulling back, wrapping one hand around what he couldn't get in his mouth, nuzzling, rubbing his cheek against the rosy head – Steve let himself try everything. It was far from the first time he'd gone down on Bucky, but it was the first time he really dared to get creative, to find out what would drive his lover insane. Bucky's hand rested on the back of Steve's head, and he murmured encouraging words until his voice failed and he had to move his hand to brace himself upright, and all his clever, sweet, loving words turned into moans, which turned into a long wail as he came, and Steve swallowed greedily.

He pulled back slowly, almost reluctantly, pressing kisses to the crease of Bucky's hip, to the tuft of wiry hair above his cock, up his stomach. Bucky had fallen back flat on the bed and Steve pushed himself up off his knees with a groan to go lie atop him, kneels curling up so he could straddle Bucky's waist and rest his head on Bucky's shoulder.

“You. Are. Amazing,” Bucky declared, pressing kisses to the top of Steve's head, then tilting his chin up so he could reach his mouth. “Jesus, doll. That was amazing.” He smiled and his eyes crinkled and Steve's heart actually ached with love and want and – adoration, he decided. For this one night nothing existed outside of this lovely, kind man. “My turn?” Bucky asked, his hand still caressing Steve's back, fingertips light on the pale skin there.

Steve shook his head though. “I want...I mean. Can I fuck you?”

Bucky groaned and his hips jerked, head falling back on the bed. “ _Yes_ , oh my God, yes.”

Steve grinned, and kissed Bucky, and at least sort of tried to not roll his hips, desperate for just a little relief from the ache of _wanting._ “Precious man.”

“How do you want me?” Bucky asked softly.

“Like this, on your back,” Steve said immediately. “Want to see you, be able to kiss you.” He finally pried himself away from Bucky, moving to kneel beside him. “C'mon, lie down – yeah, like that.” He nudged Bucky to stretch out the length of the bed, tucking pillows under his back and hips. “Oh, beautiful.”

Bucky laughed, and pulled Steve down for a long kiss, drawing it out until Steve thought he might start actually vibrating, he wanted so much.

“Mph. Stop. You're too tempting.” He smiled when Bucky laughed, and leaned over to kiss his brow. “Don't laugh at me. You are.”

“I know you think I am,” Bucky said with heart-stopping sincerity.

“Good,” Steve said, and leaned over to dig through the table next to his side of the bed, because _one_ of them had to stay focused, and if it wasn't him, he'd spend the next hour kissing Bucky and telling him how much he loved him, and Steve was pretty sure he might not survive much longer _not_ being as close to Bucky as was humanly possible to get.

He slicked his fingers, then added a little more, just to be on the safe side, and knelt between Bucky's legs. “Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured, and leaned over to kiss down Bucky's chest as he slid a finger in, slow as he could.

Bucky made a stuttering little sound, and Steve shifted to kiss his mouth, still slow and gentle with his hand between Bucky's thighs.

“Can take more than _that_ , Steve.”

“Maybe I wanna make you wait for it,” Steve shot back, but he did push in a little further, and smiled when Bucky moaned.

“You wouldn't be so mean. My Stevie's not mean like that.”

Steve paused, and grinned. “It's like you don't even know me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, I will.” Bucky was assembling entire sentences still, so Steve added a second finger, still slow and gentle. Over his dead body would Bucky even be slightly uncomfortable at any point that night.

“Mmm, better,” Bucky grunted his approval, and Steve laughed.

“Don't patronize me when I'm driving you crazy with desire,” he said, mock-serious.

“I'll do whatever I want when you're – _oh_!” Steve had curled his fingers, and it had taken a few tries, but he'd found just the right spot to make Bucky's hips jerk, and for him to moan in the most beautiful way.

“You were saying?” Steve said sweetly, pushing both fingers in a little further and then curling them again.

“Do it again, again, please, fuck, baby...” Steve grinned, delighted at the stream of babble, the way Bucky's back arched, the way his lips and cheeks and chest were flushed.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you are right now,” he said softly, and Bucky moaned again. “You're perfect, darling, utterly perfect.”

“ _Steve_.” Steve took pity and added a third finger, a tiny bit faster now, and he smiled to see Bucky getting hard again. Fuck, he wasn't sure how long _he_ was gonna last, not with how much his cock ached.

“Still with me, baby?” he asked softly, and Bucky keened and nodded. “Good. Just gotta put the condom on, and you'll be full again,” he promised, curling his fingers one more time before pulling them out altogether.

“ _Want you_ ,” Bucky _whimpered,_ and Steve had to pause and bite his tongue to keep from coming right there and then. Bucky was loose-limbed, sprawling across the bed, his hips raised on the pillows, his mouth swollen and every part of him was absolutely perfect.

Steve managed to roll on the condom without incident, and he was more than generous with the slick before kneeling between Bucky's legs again.

“Ready, baby?”

“ _Hours_ ago.”

Steve laughed, and lined up, and leaned over to kiss Bucky as he pushed in. It was a little awkward with their height differences, but Bucky curled up to meet him, holding himself up with one arm and, through the haze of absolute pleasure, Steve was quietly pleased to feel what there was of Bucky's left arm press against him. Bucky still hated reaching out like that, and if he could forget himself enough in the moment, that was only good.

“That's it, baby,” Steve murmured into his mouth. “Let me love you. Let me make you so happy.”

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Bucky managed, his voice low and rougher than usual. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, hard, slow, c'n take it, I can.”

“I know. Want you nice and slow, make it last as long as I can,” Steve said, and shifted, pulling his hips back, and then slowly, so slowly driving them home again until he was pressed up against Bucky, and he was pretty sure he saw stars. Hell, he was pretty sure he could die from the pleasure of it, and was entirely okay with that.

Words failed the both of them then, and Steve could only keep going slowly for so long before he was moving his hips faster, driving home harder, only able to last as long as Bucky coming, again. The look on his lover's face sent him over the edge, and he was pretty sure he shouted, and he really, really did not give a damn if the neighbors heard, because Bucky's arm was around him, all that strength holding him close until he could catch his breath again.

“So good to me,” Bucky murmured, and Steve smiled into his shoulder, kissing the smooth skin there and tasting sweat and just – _Bucky_.

“Pretty fucking good to me too,” he murmured, and pulled himself away just long enough to grab a damp washcloth from the bathroom. And then he had the pleasure of cleaning Bucky off, caresses and kisses following the path of the cloth. He learned that Bucky was hypersensitive right after sex, and that he giggled – actually _giggled_ – when even a simple touch tickled him. Utterly charmed, Steve kissed down his side while his lover squirmed beneath him until Bucky rolled over, pinned him, and cleaned _him_ off.

The just about managed to get under the covers and wrapped together before Steve would have started to shiver. He nestled close, pressing a kiss to whatever bit of Bucky was closest.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Steve mumbled around a yawn. “Love you.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” Bucky murmured back, and Steve stayed awake just long enough to feel the kiss pressed to his brow, and they fell asleep between one breath and the next.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“What the fuck is the point of me, Steve? It's...remember our letters? The deal was that you work to honor my choice, and I fight to keep you safe. I can't keep up my end of the deal anymore.”

“Right, because there's only one way to fight,” Steve argued. He only half-realized that his hands were on his hips and his jaw was sticking out as he glared up at Bucky. The last time he'd held _that_ pose, far too damn familiar from his childhood, he and a load of fellow grad students were threatening to unionize.

“Of course there isn't! But there's only one way I'm _any good_ , and I can't fucking do that anymore.” Bucky scowled, and ran his hand through too-long hair. “You don't understand.”

“Oh, that is fucking rich. James Barnes, are you actually looking me in the eye and telling me I can't understand what it is to have your choices wiped away, to be told you can't follow your heart's desire?”

“Yes! Because you _don't_ understand, Steve, you _can't_. You don't know what it's like to be a part of something so big, to be a _force_. You don't know what it's like, to make this family because you trust each other and because you can all do things together you couldn't ever do alone. And then to have that all ripped away --” Bucky shook his head. “You're not the summer soldier, Steve, but you're not...you weren't a _soldier_. You can't get it, ever.”

Steve flinched, and looked away. “You're right. I'm sorry. I don't...I never had that. I'm sorry.” He stood up stiffly and started for the kitchen. “I should start dinner.”

Bucky winced as soon as he was alone – dumbass. Who the fuck was he to throw things back in Steve's face? Except for that part where Steve _didn't_ understand, and on top that he had a purpose and a plan and, fuck, a _job_ , and Bucky had...nothing.

He sighed and put his head down on the table, resting it on his arm, and gave himself five minutes to wallow in self-pity. Bucky was _lonely_ and _bored_. His therapist had asked him what made him happy, and he'd just stared at the guy, totally unable to answer. Shooting made him happy. Working as part of a unit made him happy. Hell, eating shitty rations in a desert made him happy, because of what he was doing and who he was with and what he was _accomplishing_. So far that day he had accomplished doing laundry and getting a fight with his boyfriend, who was also the only reason Bucky wasn't homeless at the moment.

He curled a little further in on himself, pressing his eyes against his forearm, refusing to cry. There had been more than enough crying, he was _sick_ of crying. He was sick of being useless, of hurting, and he was so terrified that it would never stop.

Bucky startled at the soft touch on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Steve biting his lip, and oh for God's sake, he couldn't even be a half-decent boyfriend, if all he could do was wallow in self-pity. He'd pester the VA about finding an apartment that didn't cost the earth if he wasn't absolutely sure that living apart from Steve would be even more painful right now. “I'm sorry,” he said, voice thick and scratchy. More time had passed than he'd realized.

“It's okay. I'm sorry too.” Steve stroked his fingertips through Bucky's hair. “Dinner's ready if you want some. Just a stir-fry, nothin' fancy.”

Bucky smiled, and sat up enough to reach for Steve, wrapping his arm around Steve's waist, even reaching out with the stump of his left arm and holding on as much as he could, an action he tried to avoid still, it looked so _creepy_ to him. “I'm really, really sorry,” he mumbled into Steve's stomach. “How are you still _nice_ to me?”

“Bucky, you really think a fight is gonna get me to stop loving on you?” Steve asked patiently. “Besides, you weren't wrong. I _don't_ know. Best I can do is listen, and be here for you.” He paused a beat. “And make a half-assed dinner.”

Bucky laughed a little, and hugged Steve tighter for a moment. “I can promise you I've had worse. Hey. Thanks.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “You're welcome. You're also on dish-washing duty, but you're welcome.”

Bucky laughed again, a little longer, and kissed Steve's stomach before standing up. “More than fair. Thanks for cooking.”

Steve shrugged as they headed into the kitchen. “Chopping up vegetables was very therapeutic.”

“I'm locking the bedroom door tonight.”

Steve snickered, and if things weren't perfect, they could have been a damn sight worse.

 

* * *

 

[Steve's texts in _italics_ , Bucky's in **bold** ]

 

**Hi Steve this is Bruce at End of the Line. Bucky's here and I think he had a panic attack or something, maybe best if you come walk him home?**

_Oh, fukc, thanks bruce i'm on my way_

**He's okay, just a little shaky, don't worry too much.**

**Er. Sorry, there's no way you're not going to worry is there?**

_ha yeah basically be there in ten. and thanks for getting in touch_

**No problem man. We're chilling out on the back patio with some tea.**

_thank you_

 

* * *

 

_Hey love, how's your day going?_

**No I did not have a panic attack you don't have to hover.**

_1) Fucking well excuse me for caring 2) Good 3) I gotta fill in for an evening class. I can pick up something on the way home but i'll be pretty late, might want to eat on your own at a decent hour._

**1) I'm sorry 2) wooo go me 30 hours and no meltdowns I am obviously the best 3) i'll make something & keep a plate warm for you**

_Hey I managed to walk across campus in subzero temperatures without wheezing and I am genuinely proud of myself. Us broken guys take what we can get in this world._

**Steve you're not broken.**

_Then neither are you._

**For fuck's sake**

_Yeah i'm tired of this fight too. gotta go look some shit up in the library and pull a ninety-minute lecture out of my ass. shall I schedule our next fight over definitions of mental and physical health for sunday at 10 am as usual?_

**mother of jesus you're a mouthy, angry little shit**

_did you literally just figure that out?_

**I love you so fucking much right now**

_ i'll mark  the calendar, prolly good to record  when the stockholm syndrome kicked in for posterity _

**do you have any concept of what it means that you don't treat me like i'm made out of glass**

_YES I GODDAMN REALLY WELL DO_

**i deserved that one. still. I really fucking love you even when you're a mouthy prick.**

_kinda like how I fucking love you even when you're doing everything you can to pick every single fight with me. I really gotta go now, though, see you tonight._

**See you, baby.**

 

*** * ***

 

_I would like to request angry sex more often._

**ha ha ha you are a comedian**

_tell me it wasn't hot_

**It's always hot, dumbass**

_DIFFERENT hot_

**yeah yeah you're right. I don't like fighting tho :(**

_Oh, baby. I'm sorry._

_Hey._

_You're still my best friend, you know that right._

**I know, sorry. just having a day. be glad when you can home home, I need some sugar, sugar.**

_Been saving it all for you. I love you, Bucky. I'll be home as soon as I can. We'll put on Pretty Young Things and I'll give you a scalp massage._

**You know you could do better than me, right? Like, this is a fact you definitely know?**

_No, I couldn't. I really couldn't._

 

* * *

 

_ JFC it would literally be easier for me to fly to the Middle East,  corner Kerry  and interview him about his time with VVAW than it is for me to access some of this research. _

_also I won't be home for dinner got to write a goddam exam_

_i'm sorry :(_

**sorry took so long to get back had a bad freakout**

_fuck are you okay? I can come home_

**you got work, stevie. sam's here.**

_you sure?_

**yeah. I feel pretty sick anyway, just gonna lie here and watch him play video games**

_tell him he's gotta take care of you for me_

**steve i'm really scared they're getting worse.**

**I passed out.**

**in front of god and everybody. on the fucking street.**

_oh, baby. bucky i'm so sorry. really seriously what can I do for you?_

**rewind the last couple months so they never happened**

**sorry**

**honest, stay at work and get it done so I don't feel guilty. might be asleep when you get home, but we'll have a good cuddle tomorrow?**

_if I could undo all this pain I would. you know htat_

_and we'll have an awesome morning tomorrow._

_and for real tell sam he's gotta dote on you or i'll kick his ass_

**steve I gotta tell you sam can say more with a single raised eyebrow than most people can in a novel**

_tell him to bite me_

** I will not he's being an angel. also he's really good at goldeneye  and i'm a little afraid. **

_ha ha. take care of yourself. if you need me to come home, let me know. please._

**I will.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dietraumerei.tumblr.com! The occasional headcanon, far too many pictures of Sebastian Stan, lots of fanart, you get the idea.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam fiiiiinally shows up, hooray!

 

Dear Steve,

Well, I guess I'll show you this entry, because these are things I really  _do_ want to tell you, and also we pretty much  _have_ to communicate over writing, since we're barely in the same place at the same time these days. I know you're busy, and I'm really excited for you, finishing the PhD and all, and I'm sorry I had to go back to Walter Reed for a few days. At least it'll be the last time. I'm healing perfectly – physically, anyway.

So, yeah. I'm kind of glad you're so busy. One, because it makes you glow, and it's what you're meant to do. But it also means you don't have to see me at my lowest so much. Cause I don't think it'll come as a surprise to you that I'm really, spectacularly, not okay. And this is the last thing I can protect you from.

I can see you glaring at me now, which is a nice trick, since you're fast asleep beside me. (Good. You don't sleep enough, and I hate it when you get sick on my watch.) But you gotta understand – I think this is what _I_ was born to do. To protect people. I mean, to protect people in general, but especially people I love. You're keeping me going in every way, Stevie, but I still want to protect you.

That's why I haven't really told you what happened there, to land me back here. I remember it all, completely. Vividly. And I can talk about it  now  to people who are paid to listen, but I can't talk about it with you. Not yet. Maybe not ever? (Look, it's probably too early to say that you're the one for me, that you're it. But I can also totally believe that fifty years from now I'll still be sat up in bed, watching you sleep curled around my leg like a ridiculous octopus  with hair . ) I don't know.

I'm probably writing this all wrong. I love you, you know this, or you'd better by now. You make me a better person, Steve, you really do. Please just understand that when I keep this part of myself away from you, all the trauma and the horror and the panic attacks and the not leaving the house, it's because I love you. Because this is the way I can protect you now, by taking care of myself, and being the funny, playful, good man you deserve. I know you can take on all my troubles and more – but I don't want you to. I can't protect you from all of it, but please, give me the honor and the dignity to take the worst stuff to someone else. I love you and trust you, please just try to understand. The man I want to be will always have only one arm, and will probably always be a little fucked in the head. But he loves you so much, and needs to show you in his own way.

I hope you understand. I hope so bad.

Love,

Bucky

 

* * *

 

“I don't fucking need protecting,” Steve said, and scowled.

“ _Yes_ , I _know_ ,” Sam said. “I get it, dude.

Steve's scowl deepened. “I just don't want him to feel like he's alone, like I can't take it.”

“Steve, he very specifically told you that he knew you could take this on, right?” Sam stifled a sigh. “And he's not alone. Bucky has built himself an intelligent, strong support network. Also, you do remember that I'm not your therapist, right?"

Steve bit his lip, and was quiet for a long moment.

“You do remember I'm your friend, right?” Sam asked, more gently. “I get it, as much as I can. But I get that he needs to do this for you _and_ himself, okay?”

“At least one of us understands,” Steve muttered. He shoved back into the old sofa a little more, half-wishing he could just hide in the cushions for a few minutes or possibly a few months.

“He loves you,” Sam reminded him. “This is how he shows his love. It's valid, Steve.”

“I know.” Steve paused. “Okay, I don't. But, I guess I can just go along with it?” He shrugged. “It's not like...like we'll be less close or anything. And it's protection out of love, not because he thinks I'm weak, or whatever.”

“Mmmm. And how much do you _really_ believe that?” Sam grinned at the glare he got. “Dude, it's okay. Just pretend you believe it for right now, and let Bucky show you how much he really means it, okay? The man needs you. Let him pick _how_ he needs you.”

“All right.” Steve curled up a little tighter around himself, but didn't scowl. “Sorry. Session with Dr. Wilson is now over. Normal people talk now. How's your sister doing?”

Sam laughed. “We never do normal people stuff, Jesus Steve, it's like you don't even get why I'm your friend. And she's great – came home with the kid last week, no longer sleeps, happy as I've ever seen her.” He grinned slyly. “I've got baby pictures...”

Steve groaned, and held out his hand. “Phone. I want to see photos and you can talk me though the miracle of your niece.”

“Man, be careful when you give me permission like that. Because I will. For hours.”

Steve grinned. “She's adorable. Tell me about her, Uncle Sam.”

“Seriously? This is your last chance to skip the baby babble...”

“Sam. She's your niece. You're proud of her. Tell me everything.”

Sam grinned and wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders, and pulled up the gallery on his phone. “Okay, so she was asleep when I got there...”

 

* * *

 

Dear Bucky,

There's so much about you I don't understand. I think a lot of it I never will, I _can't_. But, I mean, I guess there's a lot about me you don't understand? I don't know. I'm pretty uncomplicated. (I'm pretty un-special, but I suspect if I seriously said that to you, you'd actually get upset with me, so ignore this sentence, okay?)

Sorry. I started writing this because I thought it would be easier than talking, that I could get everything out _sensibly_ , you know?

Okay, so. I don't understand. All I know is if I could, I would rewind everything. I would move the universe back, back to the point where you were still deployed, where you felt useful and happy. Where we missed each other, but we still had the future. I'd make everything better for you, but I know I can't. Even now, no matter how much I treat you like I'd treat any boyfriend – it's not really working, is it? I can't undo what happened, and I can't pretend like nothing happened, and we've got to figure out how to be us and be healthy too, I guess?

So I don't understand you, but I'm willing to believe that _you_ understand you. And I love you, and I'm willing to believe that this is how you love me. So, okay. I guess I understand why you want to keep the worst of what happened to you with other people? I don't know. But I respect that, and I'm not angry or upset. Maybe a little hurt, because it's hard not to feel like you're protecting me because you think I'm weak or I can't take it. So I guess this is all on me, not you, because you're truthful and loving and you're probably more sensible about this than I am. It's not about me, really, and I shouldn't make it so.

I'm sorry I don't understand, that I can't. I'm so, so sorry Bucky. But I respect your choices, and if I can give you the dignity of your choice, you know I always will.

I can't understand right now. But maybe fifty years from now, when I'm curled around you in bed and I love you just as much as I love you today, maybe then I'll get it.

Always yours,

Steve

 

* * *

 

Dear Steve,

I would never want to erase the last couple months of my life. And not just because I can't really afford to think that way, or wonder what if, or anything like that – not if I want to keep coping, to get to the point where I can be healthy and okay with myself and the world. Of course I'd want to go back to before all the pain and the surgeries and being absolutely sure I was about to die, but I've got good memories too, okay? I've got you. And I've got to just keep moving ahead.

I never thought about the future, at first. You remember when I could barely plan dinner? And now I'm thinking about who I want to be, who I _can_ be, with this new body and this new life. It's terrifying, and it's wonderful. I hope you can see how wonderful it is.

You know how you put milk in your coffee, and stir it one way and the milk disperses, but if you stir it the other way, the milk doesn't un-disperse? That's my life. No unstirring the milk, no undoing the past, just moving ahead. And eventually getting to that day, fifty years from now, when you wake up and blink all sleepy-like, and reach out for a kiss before you're even properly awake, like you did this morning.

We're gonna be okay, you and me. I know it.

All my love,

Bucky

PS You're so special to me, Steve. You don't have to believe me, but I know I'm right.

 

* * *

 

[Steve's texts are in _italics_ , Bucky's are in **bold** ]

 

_DC is SO BORING and I am SO SICK of this fucking PhD._

**Well, I'm eating ice cream for dinner and watching Blackadder, so. Um. Sympathies?**

_Ha fucking ha. Eat a vegetable once in awhile, they're good for you :)_

**I had fries with lunch. Fries is a vegetable.**

_You know sometimes I worry, just a little, that I'm useless in your life. Then I remember you would probably get scurvy without me._

**Probably. And hey, you are not useless in my life!**

_Yeah yeah, charmer. You love me for my DVD collection :)_

** Well, yeah. And for your you, y a mook. **

_Thanks, baby. I miss you._

**I miss you too.**

 

*  * *

 

**You coming home for dinner?**

_I'm really really sorry, but I gotta get three thousand words written today still :( I'll get something here._

**Okay.**

 

* * *

 

_TEN THOUSAND WORDS DOWN only thirty thousand more to go kill me now._

**you can do it! I made lasagne for dinner, btw. And Sam wants to come over because he's forgetting what you look like.**

_ heh, cool. I'll come home for dinner, I promise. Hey, as soon as I'm done – I'm taking  you  out for a real date. I owe you so much. _

** You do not, you loser. You're busy, it's okay. I'm even  almost busy :) **

_Still. I miss actually hanging out with you. I'm so sorry, but I'll be yours again soon._

**Steve, I understand. It's okay. Things are actually pretty good with me, so just consider me here for you, okay baby?**

_I know. Thnx._

 

_* * *_

 

**Hey, I got some awesome news for you when you get back from DC :D**

_Thank God, I need something good in my life._

**I'll have something super-good for you, promise. Want to tell you face-to-face.**

_Now I really can't wait to get home :) I'm so tired, Buck._

**You work too hard. I'm so, so proud of you, but I'm tying you to the bed as soon as this deadline is past.**

_think i'll let you. i'm glad things are good for you tho._

**I'm doing okay :) Better when I've got my baby back. How's writing going?**

_Okay I guess? my supervisor hated the last chapter so i'm reworking it._

**Well, fuck him. You're awesome, you know that?**

_hah, thanks buck. gtg, I love you._

**I love you too. miss you.**

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky whistled to himself as he unlocked the front door, because he was a dork like that, and he totally owned  it. And because it was a gorgeous winter day, surprising for March.  A nd  because  spring was just around the corner, and Steve was already in the apartment waiting for him.

And he had a future. James Buchanan Barnes was  _living_ , not just existing, and everything may not have been good, but a whole damn lot was.

He opened the door to their apartment and called out for Steve,  but got no answer. Well, he could get the coffee started –

Bucky stopped dead in the doorway to the kitchen, heart stopping for a moment when he saw Steve crumpled on the floor surrounded by broken glass. “Fuck, no, no.”

Steve looked up, eyes red from crying, and he was okay. There was no blood anywhere, Steve was okay, and Bucky crossed the small room all but instantly and crouched by Steve. “ Honey ?”

Steve shook his head and curled up tight, visibly shaking. “I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry I didn't mean...”

“Shhh. Shhh, baby, Stevie, it's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay.” Bucky checked the floor and knelt carefully, avoiding the broken glass. “Are you hurt?” He touched his fingertips to Steve's neck – pulse fast, but not uneven, and strong. Not his heart, thank Jesus and the saints.

Steve shook his head. “No. Shit. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” He laughed, broken and thick and started to cry. “It's stupid. I broke a glass, I just broke a glass but I'm so  _tired_ and I c-can't keep doing this...”

“Oh, baby, my Steve, shhh.” Bucky pulled him close, holding as tightly as he could. Steve was _shaking_ , and whatever had made him cry, Bucky would burn it. “C'mon beautiful, let's go sit on the sofa a minute. No, leave the glass, it's not gonna grow legs and walk away or anything, we can clean it up in a little bit.” He kept up the tender babble, hoisting both of them to their feet and walking Steve into the living room, pulling him close as soon as they were sitting on the sofa, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I've got you, love. Whatever it is, we'll fix it.”

Steve laughed bitterly. “'s not that. Not sure there's any fixing me.”

“Hey, who the fuck said you needed fixing?” Bucky said, bristling.

“I really do,” he said quietly. “Not doing so good here, Buck.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Oh, baby.” Bucky pulled him a little closer. “Still got you.”

“'m sorry.”

“You keep saying that, when you've got nothing to be sorry for,” Bucky chided softly, and he pulled back just enough to meet Steve's eyes. He leaned forward to kiss the sharp point of one cheekbone and – damn. He was a moron. He should've picked up how hard Steve was working, how he was almost never home, how he was _losing_ weight. Fuck, he'd missed too much. “Oh, Steve.”

Steve shrugged, and looked away. “I'll be okay. Just gotta get through the next few weeks.”

“No, it's more than that, isn't it? You've been working so hard for so long...”

“Yeah, for a fuckton of nothing,” Steve muttered, and scrubbed at his eyes. “What the fuck am I accomplishing? I'll write a thesis no one'll read, find postdoc work no one cares about, live the rest of my life not doing a damn thing to justify my existence.”

“Hey, stop that,” Bucky said, a little sharply. “There's so much more to you than your work. You are _so_ much more than a thesis and some research, Steve. You're good and caring and so many people love you. You matter, and don't you dare believe otherwise.”

“I'm not gonna off myself,” Steve said sullenly. “Don't worry.”

“Well, good. But you're ignoring my point,” Bucky argued. “This isn't a good way to live, baby.” He cupped his hand around Steve's cheek, thumb brushing away tears. “You take so much on,” he murmured. “Why didn't I see it?”

Steve shrugged, but didn't pull away. “You got your own problems.”

“And I love you, so that makes your problems my problems,” Bucky said. “Baby, what can I _do_?”

“Nothing.” Steve sighed, and pressed into Bucky. “I get like this. I'm sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing for existing, okay?” Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you so much. You're carrying _so much_ , Steve, you don't have to do it alone.”

“You got enough to worry about.”

Bucky shrugged. “I got my own worries, yeah. Doesn't mean you're not the most important thing in my world, y'know.”

Steve made a broken sound, and Bucky held him a little tighter.

“I tried so hard for you,” he managed, his voice tight and cracking. “I don't understand and I know I can't because I'm like this completely useless asshole from Brooklyn but I love you and we made a _home_ and I wanted to make you proud but I _can't_ , Bucky, I can't do it right now and I'm so so suh-sorry and you need to find someone better, you do--”

“ _Steve_.” Bucky's voice was  sharp, an old tone he'd not used in...well, in a number of months, but it got Steve's attention, and it got him to shut up. “Breathe with me, okay? Just to start. Deep breaths, put your hand on my chest – yeah, like that. In. Out. In. Hold. Out.” 

When Steve had stopped hyperventilating, Bucky spoke again, voice still calm, as gentle as he could make it. “First, I'll never find anyone better than you, ever. Not anywhere in this world, so  better get used to the fact that you're stuck with me. Second, I love you.” He paused and pressed a kiss to Steve's brow. “ And finally, we're going to get you help, okay? Same as we got me help. Your old therapist still around?”

Steve nodded.

“Good. Will you call them tomorrow? Please?”

Steve nodded again, and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I love you and I will do anything you need me to, you know. It's okay if you're depressed, but this might help lighten the load a bit.”

Steve sighed, and rested against Bucky. “I know. I mean, I technically know. I just – it's all wrong and mixed up in my head...”

“I know, baby. Believe me, I know.” Bucky laughed a little, shaky and still worried. “I'm so sorry. I should've figured it out, that something wasn't right...”

Steve shook his head. “I've been away so much. You don't gotta be sorry for anything, Bucky.”

“I've got you now, at least.” Bucky smiled and leaned back so that Steve lay heavy on him on the sofa. “I'm not letting you out of arm's reach for the rest of the evening.”

Steve laughed a little at that. “I'm...I think I need you.” He bit his lip, hard, and Bucky soothed it with a kiss.

“It's not a sin to need help,” he said softly, and Steve sighed. “Hey. It's not.”

Steve made a face. “I  _know_ . Just.”

“Yeah. I know.”

* * *

Bucky kissed Steve lightly at the nondescript door in the middle of a block of shops. “See you in an hour, love.”

“See you.” Steve wrapped his arms a little more tightly around himself and smiled at Bucky before he let himself into the little office. He'd managed to get an hour with his old therapist the same day he called, and Bucky was _desperately_ thankful. It had been a quiet, tearful night for the both of them, and he had no idea what to do other than hang on and make sure Steve knew he wasn't alone, and kick himself for being so _blind_ , for not seeing how depressed Steve had been getting.

Well. No undoing the past; just moving ahead. Which, right now, meant going to get a coffee in the little shop down the street, and wa i ting for Steve to join him.

The hour passed quickly, thank God, and Steve was smiling shyly when he let himself into the coffee shop. Bucky put his book aside and held out his arm, pulling his boyfriend in close for a quick kiss and a not-so-quick hug. “Hey, you. I got you a hot chocolate.”

“Thanks.” Steve wrapped his hands around the big mug and cuddled next to Bucky on the sofa he'd commandeered. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Wasn't really a hardship, you know?” Bucky grinned, and kissed the top of Steve's head. “The barista at your three o'clock has a body worth dying for.”

Steve laughed, checked quickly, and swallowed. “You're not kidding. Aw, is this the first time we've gawked at pretty women together?”

“Pretty sure. What have I become?” Bucky laughed when Steve gently head-butted him. “Aw, you love it too.”

“You're awful,” Steve chided, and cuddled a little closer. “Hey. I owe you an apology."

“Steve, you really don't.”

“Yeah, I really do, but not about what you think.” He looked down at the mug in his hands, clutching it a little tighter. “I didn't understand why you felt like you had to protect me from the worst of everything. I get it now. I'm sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Bucky said immediately. “Always forgiven, for that. And I'm here, for as little or as much as you want to tell me.”

Steve nodded, and took a long drink of his coffee. “I'm gonna see Katie once a week to start with. And I got a referral to a psychiatrist, to see what they think. Oh, and we agreed I should take this week off work.” He smiled shyly. “So you'll actually get to see me once in awhile.”

“I am really, really happy about that part especially,” Bucky assured him, and let go with a final kiss so he could reach for his own coffee. “I'll be around as much as I can, doll. I've still got PT most days and – oh. Yeah. I haven't told you yet.”

“What? Oh, fuck!” Steve groaned, slumping on the sofa. “You had news for me and I totally – fuck. I am so, so sorry. I am _so_ sorry.”

“Hey, don't you dare be. It was news that could keep.” Bucky bit his lip, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. “And it's sort of...potential news.”

“Still!”

“I'm gonna apply to a couple engineering programs in New York,” Bucky told his cup of coffee, totally unable to meet Steve's eyes, suddenly. “In the fall. But I wanna find out how to start taking classes over the next year, just stuff to get the basic math and science out of the way.” The surface of his coffee was completely still. His hands never had shaken, and probably never would, not that that really mattered anymore – but that was the past, to be mourned, but not dwelt upon. “Um. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with it but I kinda like robotics. I think. I mean, if I get in, which isn't even that _likely_ , I'm not that smart, but I guess the classes this summer will help --”

“Bucky, Bucky, stop!” Steve reached over with just a fingertip, touching the underside of Bucky's chin and tilting his face up and over so they could make eye contact, and Bucky's heart stopped for a moment at the look of pure _joy_ on Steve's face. “Stop. It's a wonderful idea, and I am _so_ happy for you. You're plenty smart, you're _brilliant_ , and you can do anything you want in this world, you hear me? Anything at all. There's no way you couldn't be amazing at anything you set your mind to.” He grinned, and kissed Bucky, just once. “I am so proud of you.”

“Stevie...” Bucky swallowed hard, and wished desperately that they weren't in public, although maybe that was good because it gave him a reason to really work at not crying. “Thanks.”

Steve smiled, and wrapped his arms around Bucky's shoulders. “We're gonna be okay, aren't we?”

“Yeah. We are.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will go up on Monday. And! I highly doubt this will be the last story for these boys -- I have some ideas, but it might take me a little while to finalize them and figure out what a third story would be about, if that makes sense?
> 
> Also, I'm [on tumblr](http://dietraumerei.tumblr.com).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, a thing you need to know about me is that I was in Lord of the Rings fandom in the early 2000's. And a big thing in that was that you gave gifts on your birthday, like hobbits. So in honour of my 33rd(!) birthday today -- enjoy the completed story!

[The household whiteboard. Steve's writing is in ALL CAPS, and Bucky's in _italics_ ]

 

STEVE'S SELF-CARE CHECKLIST

-TEA IN THE EVENING

-COMPUTER IS TURNED OFF AT 9 (UNLESS WATCHING A MOVIE WITH SOMEONE)

-FAIRY LIGHTS ON THE OFFICE DOOR MEANS ALONE TIME

-LEAVE THE HOUSE ONCE PER DAY

-PUT ON REAL CLOTHES EVEN ON DAYS OFF

-MEET SAM AT GYM ONCE A WEEK

_-kisses from Bucky are available upon request and pretty often even when not requested_

_-steve does not have to wear a shirt as long as he is warm enough in fact the lack of a shirt is highly encouraged now that it's getting to be summer_ BUCKY I WILL WEAR A SHIRT IF I WANT TO _you're not fun_ COME AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE _with great pleasure_

_-sundays are for sleeping in I will fight you on this rogers_ WHY, WE KNOW YOU WOULD WIN _yes because I am morally correct_ GOOD LORD

\- _I love you. be good to yourself, always._

GOD, YOU SAP.

I LOVE YOU TOO.

 

* * *

 

_Bucky's Self-Care Checklist_

_\- skipping group therapy is ok if you really can't leave the house, skipping one-on-one and PT is not_

_\- you live in brooklyn and you are safe_ AND YOU ARE LOVED _steve._ WHAT YOU ARE AND NOT JUST BY ME _thank you_

\- _did you meditate this morning?_

_\- did you do yoga?_

_\- you have one arm and you live in brooklyn and you are home. you are safe._

\- YOU HAVE ONE ARM AND YOU ARE PERFECT _steve stop_ NO. YOU'RE PERFECT TO MY EYES. YOU DON'T HAVE TO AGREE, THIS IS MY TRUTH.

\- _checklist if you feel a panic attack coming on:_

_\- drink a glass of water_

_\- make tea_

_\- get a hug/massage from steve (are you happy now?)_ STOP IT. OK TO ASK FOR HELP REMEMBER? _ok_

_\- hot water bottle under the quilt_

_\- eat some wasabi peas_

_\- breathe._

\- _you're in brooklyn, it's 2015, you are loved and you are home_

 

* * *

 

“Is this an exclusive party or can anyone join in?” Bucky asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Get in here with me,” came Steve's muffled reply, and Bucky crawled under the big quilt to join Steve in the warm little cave he had made on their bed. “Touching okay?” Steve asked.

When Bucky nodded, Steve wriggled so that he was pressed close, his head resting on Bucky's left shoulder, one leg thrown across his boyfriend's thighs. “Wanna talk?”

“A little.” Bucky pressed a kiss to soft yellow hair, closing his eyes and focusing on his body. Steve's weight on his side, head heavy on his shoulder, his neck resting on what there was of Bucky's left arm. Warm, so warm under the heavy quilt with the coming summer, but they both took comfort in it.

“I'm scared of going outside today. It feels so _safe_ in here, you know? I know we're safe in here. It's...it's so different from the mountains, over there. I couldn't have gotten deployed to a nice boring desert, could I?” he finished, trying a new tactic of joking about things. It sort of worked, sometimes. “I just...wanna hide a little bit.”

Steve smiled and tucked himself a little closer, one hand stroking Bucky's back. “We'll hide together.”

“You wanna talk?” Bucky asked.

Steve was quiet for a little bit, so quiet Bucky could hear the roughness in his breath. “Not really. I don't even feel sad, love. Just numb. Tired.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky said. “Hold onto me for as long as you want.”

“Thanks.” Steve kissed his cheek. “You too, okay baby?”

“Aren't we a pair?” Bucky murmured, but couldn't keep from smiling. “Glad I found you, Stevie.”

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

[Steve's texts are **bold** , Bucky's in _italics_ ]

 

**how was class how was class how was class according to the online schedule you just got out tell me how you are smarter than everyone else**

_steve you're worse than a stalker_

**I am sitting in a departmental meeting and option b is figuring out how to set this place on fire solely with office supplies**

**darcy and I are texting about it we think we have a plan**

**ps darcy also wants to know how it went**

**as does sam**

**and nat**

_okay this is a group text so you can all stop distracting steve! Class was fine. It was all intro stuff, I knew most of it, everything seems okay. I love you all now please get lives, for the love of god._

**darcy says she has a life but unfortunately it involves being locked in a room with some professors determined to play out Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf three times a semester**

**and good. and I will not get a life I have plenty going on tyvm**

**you give me hope. I am old and embittered by academia but you will actually do something to change the world**

_aw steve shaddup. you're makin' me smile in front of all the cool kids_

**you are the cool kid.**

**wait no I take it back**

**i've seen your bookshelves**

**you're still going to do something to change the world I know it**

_ha ha let me get through physics refresher ok?_

_I already tried changing the world it only kinda worked_

_i'm good with building robots and shit_

**I'm good with anything that makes you happy. i'm also good with you helping me and darcy figure out how to end our agony**

_and here I thought you just wanted me for my body_

**that too**

_DSC00984.jpg_

**MOTHER OF JESUS WARN ME ABOUT THE DICK PICS**

**thank god darcy wasn't looking over my shoulder**

**or anyone else**

**although she wants to know why I just went bright red**

_DSC00985.jpg_

**how. how are you even real. you should not be real.**

_you know you love me_

**bite me barnes**

_we're totally having sex tonight aren't we_

**OH MY GOD**

 

* * *

 

Dear Steve,

It's been eight months since I showed up on your doorstep, which is ridiculous. I feel like I've known you for longer – I mean, I guess I have, we started writing over a year ago, but it's been only eight months of getting to hold you whenever I want, of getting to wake up next to you. It's been eight of the worst months of my life. But also sometimes the best.

I love you. I love you like every stupid, syrupy comparison you can think of. I love you, simply and wholly.

We've had some rough times, and they're not over. I don't think they'll ever be over for me. I wish I could promise you that I won't wake up screaming in the night ever again, that I won't have to sleep alone sometimes, that I won't sleep on the sofa fully dressed. I can't promise you that I won't be deeply sad for everything I've lost. Not just the arm, although that is going to suck forever, but for what I could do and who I was. I had everything planned out, and then I didn't. I miss that Bucky a lot, but I'll be okay in the end.

I guess that's the big thing. That I'm never gonna be perfect, but I'll be okay. I've gotten good at navigating life with one arm, and I'm getting better at navigating life as someone other than Sergeant Barnes. I am always going to be a little bit fucked up, but I'll be fucked up and _doing_ something, at least.

You've had some rough times too, and I know they're not my fault, but you never asked to have a boyfriend show up and move in a month after you first set eyes on him. You never asked for a boyfriend with screaming nightmares and panic attacks and who has to figure himself out. All these things were dumped on you, plus you work so hard, you give so much of yourself – all I can do is help you where I can.

I'm watching you type up your notes as I write this, and you look so happy, so _intense_ , driven to write out these words that show the world a truth. I'm unbelievably proud of you right now; I can't imagine what it'll be like in December when your thesis is done. I'm going to be the most obnoxious person at your graduation, just letting you know right now.

Today is the day I would have come home to you, if everything had gone like it was supposed to. But nothing ever does, nothing ever will, and there's nothing to do but keep going on. Keep loving you, keep going to classes, to therapy, to PT, keep moving forward into this new life I've got. It's a pretty fucking wonderful life, after all.

 

All my love,

 

Bucky

 

* * *

 

Dear Bucky,

I started writing to you about all the stuff I would have done if I was meeting you for the first time today. But you know what? Fuck that. Fuck that daydream, because I woke up this morning and you were drooling on me (yes you were don't deny it) and your hair was up my nose and you were, and I am not exaggerating, the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

Pretty sure that's love, kid.

(I am picking up your speech patterns, that's love too, God help us all.) I haven't taken your dog tags off since Christmas, and I don't plan to, ever, if I can help it. Is this reality the first choice for either of us? No, but I wouldn't want to trade in the last eight months for anything.

You worry so much about not being perfect, so I'm telling you now, you've made me a better person. Just having you in my life, I'm better. I'm stronger, I'm healthier, and I'm so much happier, my not-always-amazing brain chemistry aside. You helped me become all of this. And you've made me more compassionate, gentler with myself. Gentler with others. You're so incredibly easy to love, Bucky, and you make it easier to love other people, somehow. No matter what happens for the rest of my life, you've changed me for the better.

I hope I make you proud and happy. I won't always be able to be there for you; I think I proved that. Sometimes I'll have to take care of myself first, but then I swear you'll have all of me. And sometimes you'll have to take care of you first, and I understand that now. I understand why you can't tell me some things, and I hope you understand the things I don't tell you. I love you no less. And I am so, so proud of you.

So happy homecoming day. I picked up those cookies you like, and I'll make something good for dinner. I love you, baby, and I can't wait to see what's next for us.

 

Love forever,

 

Steve

 

_Here, then, at home, by no more storms distrest,_  
 _Folding laborious hands we sit, wings furled;_  
 _Here in close perfume lies the rose-leaf curled,_  
 _Here the sun stands and knows not east nor west,_  
 _Here no tide runs; we have come, last and best,_  
 _From the wide zone through dizzying circles hurled,_  
 _To that still centre where the spinning world_  
 _Sleeps on its axis, to the heart of rest._  
  
 _Lay on thy whips, O Love, that we upright,_  
 _Poised on the perilous point, in no lax bed_  
 _May sleep, as tension at the verberant core_  
 _Of music sleeps; for, if thou spare to smite,_  
 _Staggering, we stoop, stooping, fall dumb and dead,_  
 _And, dying, so, sleep our sweet sleep no more._  
  
-Dorothy Sayers, Gaudy Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have started to cry on my final edits of this last chapter. (Okay, mostly it was the poem I tacked onto the end, because Harriet Vane makes me Feel Things.) Which is a way of saying that we haven't seen the last of these darlings, although it might be some time, as I have other fics I want to finish up first. If I get inspired, I'll try to write something short for them!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting and clicking that kudos button -- it means the world that you like my stories!
> 
> as always, I am [on tumblr](http://dietraumerei.tumblr.com).


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